


Purple Heart, Red Cross, and Green Arrows

by melicitysmoak



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Action, American Red Cross, Angst, Character Deaths, Drama & Romance, F/M, Heroism, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Mention of Physical Abuse, Pacific War, Rated for war-related themes and violence, Suffering, Suspense, War, War-related violence, World War II, mention of sexual abuse, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 93,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melicitysmoak/pseuds/melicitysmoak
Summary: Arrow/Olicity historical war fic (AU) set during WWII in the Pacific - Oliver Queen is a marine and becomes a POW after USAFFE troops surrender to the Japanese in the Fall of Bataan in April 1942. He and his friends Tommy Merlyn and John Diggle are forced into a Death March where thousands of American and Filipino POWs die due to brutal treatment. He mourns his losses, including Felicity, a nurse and the love of his life, whom he presumes is dead when the hospital she was working in was bombed by the Japanese. Oliver miraculously survives the Death March despite his injuries when he was left for dead. Unknown to him, Felicity had also survived the bombing and is recuperating in the care of local villagers miles away.  Find out how love leads them back to each other in the midst of chaos and suffering, and how they both find lost courage and contribute to the many valiant efforts in turning the tide of the war and liberating the Philippines from Japanese occupation.





	1. Left for Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mellovesall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellovesall/gifts).



> Hi! Here is another new story for a new year. It's an Arrow/Olicity AU historical fic set during the Second World War in the Pacific, specifically in the Philippines. This is the first time I am embarking on a somewhat "dark" action-drama, so please bear with me. There may not be as much fluff as angst, even if there will definitely be romance in the midst of chaos and a lot of suffering. I am not much of a war movie fan, although I have appreciated a handful done by Spielberg, etc., but this concept for an Arrow fic just wouldn't leave me alone. So yeah, even if this will be quite challenging to write because of all the readings and research that I will have to put into it, I'm taking the plunge. I hope you will choose to continue on this journey with me until the end of the story.
> 
> Word of warning though. There will be character deaths and descriptions/mentions of war-related violence because, of course, it's a war fic, and that's why this is rated T, which is a first for me. There will, however, be no gory stuff, and no foul language or smut.
> 
> This story is also specially dedicated to Mellovesall, whose historical fics have given me such amazing reading pleasure and inspiration for writing.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own ARROW, its characters, or its story - only the idea for this fic. I only wish I did.

April 12, 1942  
A few miles from Orion, Bataan  
The Philippines

The sound of crickets wakes him at last. The first thing he feels is pain. Excruciating pain. But he doesn't know where it is coming from, and he doesn't remember what happened. He is in shock. All he knows is that he has never felt so much agony in his life – even as a soldier who had survived the rigors of boot camp and infantry training, has seen action more than once in China, and has been fighting a losing battle with his American and Filipino comrades against the invading Japanese forces for the last three months. He is a marine, and he is supposed to be tough. He is. But the agony he feels the moment he regains consciousness is too much for any man to bear. He wishes no one else was there to hear him cry and call out the name of his mother and… his girl. He whispers a prayer to the God that he had been taught to believe in since he was a boy, and then he passes out again.

Oliver Queen lay in prone position in the middle of a parched rice field in the dead of night. There are other soldiers, mostly Filipinos, scattered a few meters away along the road, but those are no longer bodies. They are corpses.

When the Battle of Bataan was lost three days ago, Filipino and American troops under commander Maj. Gen. King surrendered to the Japanese army under the command of Col. Nakayama. The Japanese had already taken Manila last December and forced the Philippine president and his family, other key Filipino and American government and military leaders first to evacuate to Corregidor Island and then to flee the country, and just a month ago, Gen. Douglas MacArthur, commander of the United States Army Forces in the Far East, had left Corregidor for Mindanao where he and his compatriots were flown to Australia, with the promise to return to liberate the Philippine islands from Japanese occupation. The 4th Marine Regiment, which Oliver and his fellow marines belonged to, had been moved to Corregidor Island weeks ago, but his battalion was sent to reinforce the fast-depleting USAFFE troops left in the Bataan Peninsula that were valiantly fighting hard against the relentless barrage and bombings by the advancing Japanese troops. He and his closest friends and brothers-at-arms, Privates John Diggle and Thomas Merlyn, were among the 75,000 Filipino and American soldiers that became prisoners of war in the hands of the Japanese imperial army.

The Japanese had underestimated the number of prisoners that had surrendered, and there were not enough trucks to transport three times the expected number of American and Filipino soldiers to the camps in Central Luzon. The very next day, Oliver, Tommy, and John learned that they were all going on a 65-mile trek in groups of about 100 prisoners at a time from Mariveles, the town where all prisoners had been rounded up, to San Fernando, Pampanga where they were supposed to be transported by rail to the prison camp in Capas, Tarlac. They were part of the third group of a hundred men that left Mariveles on foot, after they were all ordered to turn over their weapons and personal possessions.

During the shakedown, they were made to empty their pockets, pulling them wrong side out, and to lay all items on the ground in front of them. The Japanese were taking jewelry, watches, and other valuable personal effects, slapping and hitting those that tried to resist or withhold things that they considered hard to part with. One Japanese guard even knocked a prisoner's tooth out for gold fillings.

They were a hundred men, so it took the Japanese guards some time to get to all of them. Oliver and his friends were sitting down on the ground towards the end of the long line of prisoners when they noticed the commotion up ahead. The Japanese guards had singled out an American officer, a Filipino officer, and three Filipino soldiers. Those prisoners were brought to a nearby rice shack near some trees. A couple of minutes later, shots were heard and only the Japanese guards returned to resume the shakedown. As word spread down the line of prisoners, Oliver and his friends learned that the prisoners who had been executed were found to have been in possession of Japanese money and souvenirs. They surmised that the Japanese must have seen it as an occasion to exact vengeance on their white enemies that had subdued some of their comrades during the Battle of Bataan and taken their valuables and belongings.

It was then that Oliver knew he had to protect the most precious possession he had on him. It wasn't the last few peso bills and coins he had left in his jacket pocket. It wasn't the gold watch that his father had given him on his 18th birthday. It wasn't the pocket New Testament that his mother had given him and made him promise to keep in his combat uniform at all times as if it would protect him from that fatal bullet that would break her heart beyond repair. It was the engagement ring – the one he had saved up from his soldier's pay in the last few years ever since he had decided that she was the one. He had wanted to buy her the real thing – 24K princess cut diamond set on a golden band, not too big, but not too small for people not to notice how much she means to him. He had their names engraved on the inner side of the band – "Oliver & Felicity, always."

Oliver couldn't and wouldn't let the ring fall into enemy hands. Not even if she had already turned him down on his proposal for marriage, not once but twice. She hadn't broken up with him, but she had refused to marry him both times he had asked, because she said that it wasn't the right time yet with the war and all. He will never see her again, thanks to this horrific, reprehensible war. But since he had lost the picture of her that he had carried around with him since his deployment to the Philippines, it was his last token of remembrance of the woman that had captured his heart; it was the only thing left to remind him of the love they had once shared. So he did not hesitate, even if he knew his plan was crazy, even if he knew it would hurt literally, and even if he was unsure it would actually work. He removed the ring from his dog tag and swallowed it, hoping that somehow, he would be able to retrieve it later on when the shakedown was over, when it was (hopefully) safer. His gold watch had been taken (gambled over by a few guards, actually), and his New Testament had been thrown away, but Felicity's ring was safe inside him.

Upon John's suggestion, Oliver and he exchanged dog tags to throw off the Japanese and conceal Oliver's rank as 2nd Lieutenant. John thought that it would be better for Oliver not to attract attention to himself as an officer and end up like the American officer that had been executed earlier. John also reasoned that when they get to the prison camp, officers would most likely be interrogated or even subjected to torture for the Japanese to gain vital information on American military intelligence. At first, Oliver vehemently refused his friend's offer to trade places with him; he wouldn't dare put his dear friend in danger for the sake of self-preservation. The only thing that finally convinced him was the prospect of guilt if and when he succumbs to torture and gives up everything he knows as an officer of the Marine Corps under duress.

They had been marching for two days straight under the intense heat of the tropical summer sun with little or no food and water. Prisoners who had already been previously wounded were dropping dead one by one during the long, arduous trek by day and night, and those that were not injured but extremely demoralized were losing the will to persevere as well. Prisoners were beaten or hit with rifles when they stopped to rest or asked for water. They were subjected to "sun treatment," forced to sit under the direct, sweltering heat of the sun at noontime without helmets or head coverings. Some were even made to strip naked or made to sit near a fresh, cool body of water that they were not allowed to drink from. The brutality increased by the day, and those who fought back were physically abused and even killed. Those who were too sick or weak to continue walking were shot or stabbed with bayonets. Cleanup crews came with trucks to pick up some of those who could no longer walk, but there were incidents when those same vehicles were used to drive over prisoners who had fallen or given in to so much fatigue or unbearable suffering.

The inhumane acts of physical and mental abuse enraged Oliver and his friends, but they couldn't do anything that would even matter or change things. On the third day of the march, when Tommy tried to defend a fellow American soldier, who stumbled and couldn't get up, a Japanese guard shot him in the back and stabbed him with a bayonet in the thigh. Tommy survived for half a day under the care of John, who had had some training as a medic, but without medical supplies and proper nourishment, John could only do so much. Tommy was forced to keep marching, flanked by Oliver and John who supported him with his arms around their shoulders, picking him up each time he fell. Oliver kept telling Tommy not to give up, reassuring his childhood friend that he would make it to the prison camp alive where they would demand treatment for his wounds.

When Tommy fell once more to his knees and could no longer stand up, the Japanese guard that had previously shot him, hit him hard on the head with the butt of a rifle and knocked him down on the ground. Oliver yelled in anger, citing in vain the provisions of the Geneva Convention regarding the humane treatment of prisoners of war. His appeals fell on deaf ears, even the ears of a couple of Japanese guards who understood a little English. Just as the cruel Japanese guard was about to finish off Tommy with his rifle, Oliver made a daring move to protect his friend and he ended up getting shot and stabbed himself. John tried to help his friends, but he was immediately restrained by the other guards and beaten. The last thing Oliver remembered hearing before he blacked out completely were John's screams and the shot that had finally ended Tommy's life. Oliver had been beaten and left for dead.

But he didn't die.

By some miracle or act of God, Oliver is still breathing – severely injured, but alive.

He awakes once more at the crack of dawn, this time due to hunger and thirst, and the buzzing sounds of flies and mosquitoes hovering near him. It's as if his body has grown numb to the pain of the bullet wound on his right side and the gaping wound caused by the bayonet stab on his hip. He tries to open his eyes slowly, but he finds that even the small movement of his eyelids is painful, as his tears had dried up overnight and crusted along his lashes. When he finally opens his eyes, he is blinded even by just the faint glow of sunrise. He lets his eyes scan his immediate surroundings and realizes that he is in the middle of a rice field. The place is deserted. He is somehow able to move his head and look at the opposite direction. He sees afar off the bodies of some prisoners, and he comes to realize that he is alive and they are dead. He suddenly remembers what had happened yesterday afternoon. He slowly recalls the grueling events that had happened in the last several weeks and in the past few days since they had been taken captive by the Japanese.

Unmoving, he cries once again for his fallen comrades. He cries for his best friend. Tommy is gone. He tries to come to terms with this very sad reality, but his grief is mixed with anger and disillusionment. "Is war really worth it? Worth losing the ones you love and care for?" he ponders in despair. And what of John? He wonders if his other good friend had made it, or if he too had suffered the same fate as Tommy. He may never know, he figures. Especially not if he dies out there.

If he dies.

Oliver ponders for a while, forgetting how thirsty and hungry he is. He hasn't eaten anything in three days except for the crackers he had shared with John and Tommy when they were still in Mariveles, and half a canteen of water that had run out on the second day of the march. He takes a few moments to consider his chances of survival as he endured the anguish of body and mind that is threatening to snuff out the faint glimmer of hope that remains in his soul. "Is there anything left for me to live for?" he asks himself.

The combined forces of the Americans and Filipinos had lost the battle. Oliver knows that it is just a matter of time before the remaining troops that took their final stand in Corregidor would fall, too. Those valiant men taking their final stand in the island are too tired to fight on by this time, most of them not having slept for close to a week, and almost entirely overcome by the dread of dying anytime at the hands of the imperial Japanese troops.

Oliver has lost Tommy, perhaps even John. But the worst loss he is still grieving over is the loss of Felicity. He had been raised as a God-fearing Methodist, but at the memory of the news of his beloved's demise during the bombings that hit Bataan a few days ago (which he had received from their friend Caitlyn Snow before she left with the other nurses for Corregidor to tend to the wounded), Oliver curses with all his might. He hates the Japanese and the cruelty they utilize to advance their imperialist agenda. He hates this war. He hates the smell of death and suffering around him. He cries out to the God he's always believed in, asking why – if He is truly a loving and powerful God – He is allowing human beings to do horrific things to fellow human beings in exchange for power and control.

Just when he thinks he has lost everything because he will never be able to have a life with the woman he loves, images of his family flash across his mind. He sees his father Robert – decorated officer of the United States Navy who retired honorably early in his military career after sustaining a serious injury during World War I – standing proud at his graduation from the Marine Corps boot camp in San Diego, California. He sees his mother Moira, sending him off to war with a warm, loving embrace and whispering in his ear, "Come back to us in one piece, my beautiful boy." He sees his younger sister Thea, making him pinky-promise to come home safe as an American hero. His family gives him hope. And if only he could go home and see them again, Oliver is willing to stay alive.

If only for the goal of testifying to the brutal atrocities of the inhumane "death march" that he and his fellow soldiers experienced before a war crimes court when this war is finally over, he is willing to fight to stay alive. The world needs to know what happened here. The families of the fallen – including Tommy's, John's, and Felicity's – need reassurance that their loved ones did not die in vain, that their husbands, sons, brothers, and daughters died as heroes and martyrs in the hands of the enemy. Future generations need to understand that courage and sacrifice are not cheap, and that the freedom and liberty enjoyed by many comes at the cost of too many human lives – too significant to take for granted.

Never mind if he returns to Starling City damaged and defeated. Winning the war and carrying out the orders of his superiors are no longer his mission. Survival is.


	2. Better Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver struggles to stay alive. Fond memories of how he and Felicity met keep him going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two, a day earlier than I intended to post. The first flashback occurs here, and it is quite lengthy. I hope you enjoy this, because I really enjoyed writing it. Thanks again for reading and following!

Bataan, April 13, 1942

His only thought is that of survival. Natural instinct and the alertness of mind of a trained marine take over in spite of the agonizing pain that torments his weary and worn body. He takes an inventory of his injuries, and he finds that the odds against survival are fast increasing. There is a gaping stab wound on his hip that hurts like hell. He has a gunshot wound on his right side; it feels as if one of his ribs had stopped the bullet from ripping through his lung, and that, too, hurts like hell. On his face, neck, and arms are multiple abrasions and bruises from the beatings and the falls during the three-day march. He doesn't need to remove his combat boots to know that the soles of his feet are full of blisters. There is a cut on his lip and another one on his left temple near his brow, which he had sustained when he fell after having been shot and stabbed by the Japanese guard who was about to finish off Tommy. Oliver is still bleeding, and he knows that even if he had narrowly escaped death by bullet and bayonet, the blood loss is going to kill him. He had to do something to help himself. And fast.

He also knows that he has to start moving. Sunrise means that the clean-up crew would be onsite any minute to collect the bodies of the fallen. The victims of unfathomable modern-day savagery. His comrades. He would have been among them, but it seems to him that heaven has a plan for allowing him to live. The Japanese would soon be here in a truck to erase evidence of the atrocity they are committing against those who had already surrendered and could not defend themselves – brutality against humankind, just like what was being done by their allies on the other side of the world to the weak, the handicapped, the outcasts, and the Jewish race.

Oliver needs to move, and his mind understands this, but his body forgets to act on this understanding at first. A minute later, he musters what strength is left in him to lift his upper body with his forearms, and he begins to crawl. He sets his eyes on a nearby shed made of bamboo and nipa. He knows that it will provide not only shelter from the sun that would soon be up, but also a hiding place from the approaching enemy that would soon arrive. The shed is almost a hundred meters away from the road behind him, and he inches his way to it through the distance by sheer will power.

Hope wells up within him as soon as he reaches the shed. For there, tied to a nearby mango tree at the rear side of the shed is a female goat. In the midst of his suffering, Oliver manages a tiny smile. He had spent his childhood with his mother in the Dearden Ranch just a few miles north of Starling City during the time when his father had been away at sea with the navy most of the time, and the ranch hands had taught him how to milk cows and goats. Never has Oliver been thankful at the sight of a goat than now. Once again, he crawls towards his only source of sustenance – his immediate chance of survival. He knows he needs nourishment to at least make it through the next few hours or until he finds a way to get help for his injuries.

Once his hunger and thirst are satisfied, he collapses under the shade of the tree, hidden from the view from the road by the nipa covered shed. He did not mind that he is sprawled on the ground beside an animal that could very easily step on him… or worse… He is tired. He is worn out. He is alive. And for that – and the goat – he is more than grateful.

As Oliver lay on the grass-covered soil, trying to catch his breath after the cumbersome task of manually feeding himself from goat's milk with his filthy, calloused hands, thoughts of Dearden Ranch eventually remind him of yet another memorable place. He reminisces the farm in southern California where he had first met her.

************************

Diggle Farm, Southern California, 1935

"Your family has an amazing property, John. Thanks for having us over for the weekend," Oliver said to his friend. He had met John Diggle in boot camp on the first day of orientation, and they had become quite good friends since. He had introduced John to his childhood best friend Tommy Merlyn, and the three of them became inseparable all throughout the twelve weeks of intensive marine corps basic training.

"Yeah, this is really nice of you," Tommy seconded the motion, looking over to John and his wife Lyla who were standing next to the barbecue grill. The Diggles had gotten married as soon as they graduated from high school, before John signed up for the marines. Lyla was already on the family way, and her baby bump was already showing.

"It's a pleasure to have you over," John replied. "Lyla wanted to meet you guys. I've been writing to her and telling her a lot about Merlyn's crazy antics and Queen's exceptional skills with the rifle and in hand-to-hand combat."

"Hey! You talked about my crazy antics but you spoke of Ollie's exceptional skills?! You're killing me, man!" Tommy protested.

"All good things, Tommy. All good things," Lyla intervened. "I've heard nothing but good things about both of you, so I asked Johnny here to invite you to visit the farm. This is actually a send-off party for the three of you. You're off to Marine Corps Base in San Diego on Monday, so I told Johnny that this is a good way to celebrate your graduation from boot camp and to wish you well on your upcoming infantry training," Lyla explained.

"Thank you," Oliver acknowledged earnestly. "This is so kind of you two. Actually, I kind of miss all this. I grew up on a ranch, and I know it's not exactly the same as a farm, but I've missed this kind of atmosphere. Despite having lived in Starling City since high school, I still prefer the simple country life. Are you sure this isn't burdensome to you? I mean, us crashing at your place for the weekend?" he asked, and then he quickly added, "Tommy can be a handful, you know."

Before Tommy could express his displeasure at that remark, Lyla answered Oliver cheerfully, "Oh no, not at all! In fact, we've also invited some more friends for the barbecue. I hope you don't mind, boys. The Lances have been long-time family friends of my husband's family. Johnny's father was in the navy with Captain Lance, so the Lance girls are practically like sisters to us. When John's parents passed, it became a tradition to invite them to every family event since it's now just the two of us here at the farm."

"Lance girls, huh? Are they still single?" Tommy asked, his eyebrows moving up and down, betraying his mischievous thoughts.

"All three," John replied. "But I'm warning you, Merlyn. You hurt anyone of those sweet young belles, and no one will ever find your body. You hear?" John warned him, albeit in a joking manner.

"Oh, you'll love them!" Lyla began to comment. "Especially Sara. She's the outdoor type and the most athletic one. Sometimes I think she should have been born a boy. She would have carried on the family's navy tradition better than any of you."

John went about grilling the barbecue but continued the conversation with his wife and his friends. He told Oliver and Tommy about the other two Lance girls. He told them about Laurel, the oldest of the sisters, commending her for her intelligence and her ambition of taking up law at Harvard in the Fall. But when he started talking about the youngest sister, John was beaming with pride. He told them that she was pure sunshine and genius, and that they'll just have to see for themselves to understand exactly what he meant. Her name was Felicity, and John was obviously fond of her most.

Thirty minutes later, the Lance family arrived in their pick-up truck. As soon as the sound of the truck pulling into the driveway was heard, the Diggles excused themselves to receive their guests at the front porch. Oliver and Tommy offered to stay in the backyard with the barbecue. John and Lyla got the Lance couple and the girls settled in their respective rooms, and then they brought them to the backyard to introduce them to their friends.

John introduced Quentin and Donna to his friends. Quentin was polite and civil, retaining most of his navy-like demeanor as he shook hands with Oliver and Tommy. Donna was very excited to meet Oliver and Tommy, mentioning how pleased she was to meet "such gorgeous young men." She even asked if they had one more friend in the marines that was as handsome and courteous as them, because she had three daughters, not just two, and she would be delighted to see them married off to decent, handsome men in uniform like her Quentin. She giggled, but Quentin rolled his eyes at his wife in embarrassment at her effrontery and inappropriate words.

"Oh! Speaking of our three adorable girls… Where's the third one? Laurel sweetie, where is my baby girl?" Donna asked.

"Felicity was still in the bathroom when you asked us to come down, Mom." It was Sara who answered.

"Oh, I see," Donna responded. "Felicity! Honey, come down here!" she hollered near the doorway, as if her daughter could hear her all the way upstairs. Quentin reprimanded her and told her to keep her voice down. Donna simply shrugged and apologized to everyone, saying that she was merely thrilled for her girls to meet John and Lyla's friends.

John simply chuckled, trying in vain to hide a naughty grin. Lyla elbowed him, glaring at him to keep it together. Unbeknownst to his friends, he and Lyla had actually planned to pair off Oliver and Tommy with two of the Lance sisters. Although they had built up Sara to the boys earlier, the Diggles knew that the other two girls would strike much better matches with the guys. Lyla had thought that Tommy's laid-back and carefree attitude would be tamed by Laurel's discipline and single-mindedness. John had believed that Oliver's tendency to brood and glass-half-empty perspective would be balanced by Felicity's lightheartedness and positive outlook on life. The Diggles had a plan, and they began to set it in motion before the three gentlemen went back to San Diego for the next phase of their training as US marines. A little inspiration might make a world of difference for them.

While John and Quentin attended to the barbecue, and Lyla and Donna went inside to prepare the salad and the potatoes, Oliver and Tommy started a conversation about boot camp with Laurel and Sara. Sara found boot camp training fascinating, remarking more than once why women who qualify should be given the fair chance to serve their country by joining the marine corps. The guys were, in turn, fascinated by Sara's feisty attitude, as they had never met a girl with the same passion to serve their country by actually wanting to be a soldier. Laurel courteously asked for them to excuse her sister's unique outlook and behavior, explaining that their father's patriotism had rubbed off on each of them growing up. Laurel shared that her idea of serving her country was by becoming a successful lawyer that would champion women's and children's rights and by ensuring that justice was served in the courts. She then shared that their youngest sister's childhood dream was to become a military engineer, as she loved to design and build things.

"Really? That's… that's pretty amazing," Tommy commented. Oliver simply nodded and kept quiet. He thought that it was pretty strange for a girl to want to be an engineer building technology for the military, but he certainly found it quite interesting.

"Yeah, it is," Sara interjected. "I think Felicity would make a brilliant engineer for the army, the air force, or even the navy. Math and Science are her thing. Too bad Mom and Dad don't see it that way. They want all three of us as far away from any arm of the military as possible. They're pretty much old school, thinking that the military is no place for girls. Dad says he doesn't want any of us to ever be caught in the line of fire," Sara said with a frown.

"Maybe things will change in a few years," said Oliver, hoping to make Sara feel less frustrated.

"Maybe, maybe not. At least not before Laurel moves to Harvard in the Fall and Felicity goes off to nursing school in San Francisco," Sara retorted. "In that case, neither Felicity nor I get to do what we really want to do with our lives."

Oliver felt bad for the Lance sisters; he thought that society's norms and expectations were holding them back from being the best that they could be. Based on first impressions, Sara seemed more determined than many of the marine corps recruits at R.D. that he had trained with, and despite her height, she would probably breeze through basic training and graduate from boot camp with flying colors. He had yet to meet this Felicity, but he already felt disappointed that a young woman with such a brilliant mind would not get the chance to realize her dreams just because she was female. He admired her, though, that her second choice for a profession still had something to do with public service and helping others. He thought they would probably get along well if just for that.

Oliver had his back towards the door that led into the house, so he didn't notice when the youngest of the sisters finally made her "somewhat awkward" entrance.

"Sara! There you are!" Felicity nearly yelled as she emerged from the kitchen door, unintentionally banging the screen door behind her. "I'm so sorry, but I had to borrow your pink pleated skirt. I know you don't like me going through your things, but it was an emergency! Dad wanted me to remove the colors on my fingernails before I came out here. He has this thing about me painting my nails all the time. I accidentally dropped the bottle of nail polish remover and spilled some on my own skirt, so I had to wash it and change into something. Fast! I saw yours on the bed, so I just took it. We're almost the same size, and I was sure you wouldn't mind. You never really liked wearing skirts and dresses anyway. Mom just makes you wear them instead of the slacks you prefer. And... oh… I'm so… so sorry for saying all that and embarrassing you in front of these really handsome gentlemen, so I'm just going to stop talking in three… two… one."

Oliver couldn't help but chuckle and couldn't resist turning around to see where all that adorably endearing babble had come from. Had he turned immediately, he would have seen how she gestured animatedly while she rambled, but he didn't want to put the young lady on the spot, seeing Tommy and Laurel were already snickering in their seats. So, he waited for her to finish. And when he did turn around, what he saw took his breath away.

The blonde who had babbled was the most beautiful young woman he had ever laid eyes on – despite the fact that she wore two-toned, dark-rimmed prescription lenses that most girls preferred to do away with even if they needed it. Some strands of her hair had strayed from her ponytail, but to him, they actually accentuated and framed her already lovely face. Her eyes were the color of the ocean, and her lips were so pretty in pink. They hadn't been formally introduced yet, but Oliver was already interested to get to know Felicity more. There was just something about her.

"No problem, Fliss! Come over here," Sara beckoned her to come and join them at the picnic table. "We'd like you to meet John's friends from the marines."

Sara and Laurel introduced Felicity to Tommy and Oliver. When Oliver got the chance to shake her hand, he squeezed it and he favored her with a charming smile that made her cheeks turn crimson. The rest of the afternoon and evening went by in friendly conversations over a sumptuous meal.

The next day, John showed their guests around the farm in the morning. In the afternoon, Oliver and Tommy went horseback riding with the girls, two at a time, because John had only two horses in the farm that were trained and fit for riding. Tommy went riding with Laurel; everyone could easily tell that he had his eyes set on the brunette since the night before. Oliver, like a true gentleman, offered to ride with Sara and then with Felicity. Felicity made a mental note of his act of kindness, which in her book earned more points than mere outward appearance. When Oliver and Sara came back to the stable forty-five minutes later and dismounted, Felicity thanked him for being willing to ride twice. Sara walked back to the farm house with Laurel and Tommy, having conspired with those two to give Oliver and Felicity some time alone.

Oliver helped Felicity mount her horse before he got on his. Goosebumps broke out on her skin when Oliver lifted her up by the waist. As soon as she safely mounted the horse and sat securely on the saddle, Oliver got on his steed. The contact his hands had made with her waist had been too short and quick for his liking, but he had felt her tense up, so he decided to rein in his emotions and take it slow. This young woman was special, and he wasn't going to mess things up between them just because he felt increasingly attracted to her by the minute. He was going to make sure that he treated her with the utmost care and respect she so deserved.

After their two-hour-long ride and sight-seeing (which only got cut short because the sun had begun to set over the horizon), Oliver got down from his horse as soon as he came to a stop just outside the stable. He immediately made his way to Felicity and helped her get down from her horse. They brought both horses back to the stable and then walked back to the farm house in companionable silence, until Oliver could no longer hold his peace.

"Felicity, would you like to go into town with me tomorrow?" Oliver asked. "Lyla mentioned earlier about this place on Main Street that makes the best soft pretzels and sells really good ice cream. I was wondering if maybe…" He hesitated for a while, but the winsome smile on her face emboldened him to go on. "I was wondering if you'd like to spend some time with me outside the farm?"

Felicity's smile widened into a grin that showcased her pearly whites. "Yes," she replied, "I'd love that. What time should I be ready?"

**************************

That marked the beginning of his friendship with Felicity Megan Smoak. The weekend came to a close, and they had to go their separate ways. Oliver and Felicity decided to keep in touch by writing. He got to know her better as they corresponded while he was in marine infantry training and even as Felicity started nursing school.

Oliver discovered that Felicity wasn't really a Lance sister by blood, which was why she retained her mother's maiden name as it was in her birth certificate. Donna Smoak had had a fiancé in the army named Noah Kuttler who, like her, was Jewish. He had been deployed to Europe during World War I when the U.S. declared war on Germany in 1917; he hadn't made it back home to marry her, having died in action without knowing that he had fathered a child with her. Donna had given birth to Felicity and raised her daughter on her own. Later on, she and 5-year-old Felicity had moved from their small town in Nevada to a bustling town north of San Diego, California where the U.S. naval base was located. There she met and fell in love with naval officer Quentin Lance, a widower. Quentin had married Donna and had treated Felicity like his own daughter, even if Donna preferred that he didn't adopt her daughter and change her last name, because Donna had wanted to remember her first love, Felicity's father – which was something that Quentin had respected. The Lance sisters had also accepted Felicity – especially Sara, as they were of the same age – always looking out for her and defending her from mean boys and girls who bullied her in school and called her names just because she was a genius with strange quirks and unconventional interests like homework, gadgets, and gismos.

Oliver also learned that Felicity had been accelerated in school, breezing through two grades in one year in elementary, and then again in high school, which was why she had graduated together with Laurel at age sixteen. Sara was still in high school and hadn't decided what she wanted to do with her life, but Felicity had been dead set on making a difference in this world even as a woman, so she opted to go for a career in nursing instead. When the American Red Cross had initiated a blood donation program with the navy in the summer before her senior year, Felicity and her mother had accompanied Quentin to the base. Since then, Felicity had taken such an interest in the organization and thought that becoming a nurse and volunteering for the Red Cross wasn't such a bad option, since her parents had still been adamant against her dream of pursuing an engineering degree with the intention of serving in the military to honor her biological father, whom she hadn't been given the chance to get to know.

Oliver recognized the fact that she shared the same ideals of community service and love for country that his parents had inculcated in him from childhood. As he got to know her more and more, Oliver's admiration for Felicity had grown alongside the inexplicable fondness that he had for her. Sure, she was almost three years younger than him, but her emotional maturity and wisdom paralleled those of people way past her age.

Soon, writing and receiving letters were no longer enough. He went to visit her each time he would get a break from marine corps training, taking a short bus ride from San Diego to her hometown. Quentin and Donna always welcomed him and asked him to stay for dinner, which was frequently followed by evening strolls with Felicity to and from the nearby park and extended talks on the front porch of the Lance residence, until Quentin would clear his throat just behind the front door to say, "Queen, don't you have to be back at Marine Corps Base early tomorrow? Maybe you should get going, son. It's late." Oliver would usually reach for her hand, intertwine her fingers with his, and squeeze as he said to her, "Bye, for now. I'll see you next time." Felicity would then smile and say, "Take care of yourself, marine."

***********************

Oliver and Felicity knew that what they had was more than just friendship. They had started to really care for each other, and they both sensed that the growing feelings for each other were mutual. Their budding romance had bloomed during those months up until Oliver finished infantry training and became a full-fledged enlisted marine. He wanted to take their relationship one step further. He thought they were ready, and he couldn't have been more correct. Felicity had been waiting for him to make his move, and when he finally did, the moment was perfect and precious.

Oliver had asked her to join him and his family for dinner at a restaurant in San Diego so that he could introduce her to them. Robert, Moira, and Thea Queen had come down from Starling City to send him off the next day. Oliver's superiors and trainers had recognized his exceptional marksmanship and recommended him for advanced training under an expert sniper named Major Floyd Lawton a.k.a. Deadshot, and he was scheduled to leave with a select group of marines the next morning for Parris Island, North Carolina. The dinner at the restaurant was lovely, and Oliver's family fell in love with Felicity instantly, especially nine-year-old Thea who declared she was going to become a nurse someday just like Felicity.

The Queens invited Felicity to stay with them at the hotel where they had booked a family suite. Robert himself spoke with Quentin over the telephone and got permission for her to stay the night, after which the two navy men carried on a rather congenial conversation over the phone. Before Felicity retired for the evening to join Thea in her room, Oliver invited her to come down to M.C.B. with his family to send him off early the next morning.

Oliver thought she'd be pleased. Instead Felicity said, "I would love to go, Oliver, but I thought only family and relatives are allowed into the base to send off marines."

"Well, they also make exceptions for… for fiancées and girlfriends," Oliver replied, his voice wobbling a bit. He was nervous, but he was also determined to make his intentions clear once and for all. "I was hoping… you'd be willing to go as mine. My girl, I mean."

"Oliver, what are you saying?" Felicity asked, encouraging him to articulate his thoughts more definitely.

"Felicity, these past several months of getting to know you have been truly amazing. You're amazing. I've grown so fond of you that I find it very hard to walk away each time we're together. Thoughts of you make me want to be the best marine I can be, the best man I can possibly be. All I want to do is to make you happy, because I've come to care about you… a lot. I guess what I'm saying is that I would like for us to be more than just friends. I'll be gone a long time, so it would mean a lot to me if I can somehow know that you feel the same way about me before I leave. If… if you'll have me, then I'd like for you to come to base tomorrow and send me off… as my girlfriend. I would truly be honored." Oliver sighed, relieved that he was able to let all of that out without breaking down.

Felicity beamed at him with so much affection in her eyes that he already knew her answer even before she spoke. "Private Oliver Jonas Queen, the pleasure is all mine. I'd be delighted and honored to be your girlfriend and to send you off with your family tomorrow." She leaned into him on her tippy toes, planted her delicate hand on his chest, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then she whispered in his ear, "Good night."

Before Oliver hopped on the truck that would take him and his companions to the military air strip where they would board an air force plane that would transport them to Parris Island, he got his first and most memorable souvenir from his girl – their first real lover's kiss.

************************

Bataan, 1942

The sounds of footsteps and faint whistling rudely interrupt Oliver's fond reminiscences of better days, which had temporarily dulled the pain that racked his battered body. Someone is approaching, but the shed is standing in the way, so he cannot really see whether the stranger is a friend or a foe. He picks up a rock within reach to use as a weapon, in case it was the latter. His heart pounds in his chest as the rustling and whistling sounds draw nearer. As the stranger rounds the corner of the shed, Oliver is relieved to see that it is a Filipino male, slightly younger than him, lanky and of medium height. The young man is alone and unarmed.

"Hello," Oliver greets with his slightly raspy voice, which startles the approaching stranger. The boy looks up ahead and stops dead in his tracks a few feet away from Oliver. The boy stands speechless, wide-eyed, and afraid.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Oliver assures him. "I need help. I'm bleeding, you see. Can you get me some help? Please, young man. Help me."

The young man stares at Oliver and sees the gunshot wound on his right side and the bleeding stab wound on his hip. He removes his native hat and clutches it against his chest as he falls down on his knees, shuddering in fear. Oliver surmises from the boy's body language that he is still deciding what to do. Is he going to help him, or is he going to leave him there to die? Worse, is he going to tell the enemy what he has found? Does he even understand what Oliver is asking for?

Before Oliver can beg him once again for help, the boy suddenly gets on his feet and runs away without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Oliver feeding himself milk from the she goat came from an anecdote that my mother used to tell when I was younger. She was born during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines. Back then, food supply was limited and came in rations. My grandmother had told her that her older siblings and she (an infant) survived hunger thanks to the milk of the only goat they owned. My grandmother hated the war; during her senile years when she was still alive, she would sometimes get lost in thought, and vivid images of those horrible times came back. Even if Japanese people today are among the most polite and kindest foreigners I've encountered, Lola ("grandmother" in Filipino) still found it hard to resist the ill feelings she harbored against them due to her recollections of the harsh life in the early 1940s and the hardships that my grandfather and his fellow Filipino soldiers experienced.
> 
> So, what did you think of this update? Flashback to better days was also intended as a mini respite from the darkness of the first chapter. This chapter is longer than the first, and I think that the succeeding chapters will be just as long. If you have time, do leave a review and let me know what you're thinking. Thanks again!


	3. Mistaken Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sympathetic strangers try to get help for Oliver.  
> We find out what has happened to Felicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of the chapter is told from Oliver's point of view (somewhat), while the second half is told from Felicity's POV. Characters from The Flash make their appearance, so I hope you enjoy that too.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or The Flash or their characters. The CW does. I am only borrowing their characters for this story and I am not getting any profit from this. Just had to say it to be sure.

Little Baguio, Bataan  
April 7, 1942

Chaos and pandemonium.

All hell broke loose in the hospital as medical personnel and patients – military and civilian alike – shrieked and screamed in terror as bombs exploded everywhere. Japanese bombing and artillery fire had been pounding throughout the peninsula in the last five days as the enemy advanced, pushing the combined forces of the Americans and Filipinos towards Manila Bay, where they'd been geographically trapped and psychologically demoralized. Japanese bombers had already dropped about 100 tons of explosives on the military installations, and the defenders were sustaining heavy damage everywhere. Destruction was expected in battle, but the frantic hospital staff and fearful patients could not believe that their enemies were that cruel and merciless to target a civilian medical installation.

The lobby of the hospital was already demolished, and the flames were spreading inwards fast, threatening to consume the portion of the building where most of the medical supplies and hospital records were kept. Smoke filled the corridors, and the smell of death was in the air. Patients who were ambulatory were running aimlessly, scrambling in different directions to flee the wreckage, while those who were too weak, sick, or injured to save themselves were being evacuated by the remaining medical staff who had survived the first major blast and who still had the presence of mind to carry out their duties.

Oliver jumped out of the army truck and ran towards the burning building, but there was no way to enter through the main entrance with all the smoke and debris blocking the way. He tried the east entrance, but the gate was locked from the inside. He looked around and spotted a medical table with wheels. He grabbed it and used it to smash a large glass window near the locked gate. He then entered into the building through the window, sustaining a gash on his forearm from the sharp glass edges in doing so.

"Felicity!" he yelled. "Felicity Smoak!" Where could she be, he wondered. He hoped against all hope that she had not been among those lying bloody and lifeless in the atrium that he had just passed. There was no way to tell, as the flames kept him from coming any closer.

He ran from one hallway to another, desperately calling out the name of the woman he loved. Two times he grabbed blonde-haired women in nurse's uniforms by the shoulder from behind by mistake, thinking it was her. Felicity was nowhere to be found. "Felicity!" he cried out in vain. He was losing hope by the second.

"Lieutenant!" a stranger suddenly called out to him from behind. He turned around to find a Filipino woman with a bleeding cut on her forehead. She looked like she was one of the medical staff. "Sir, last I saw Nurse Smoak, she was helping Dr. Barry Allen evacuate an injured Filipino officer. They were supposed to get on an army truck headed for Corregidor. If you hurry, you might still catch them at the back way," the short, stout woman said. Oliver simply nodded in thanks and hurried to the hospital's rear exit.

He was almost there, just a few paces away from the doorway when – Bam!

A thunderous explosion rocked the entire facility. A bomb had been dropped from the sky, and it detonated at the heart of the hospital building.

This time, there were no screams that followed, no more cries for help. There was only silence after the blast.

Oliver could hear nothing but the ringing in his ears. He did not know if the eerie silence around him was because of that, or if it was because no one else but him had survived. He seemed to have miraculously survived the blast unscathed, but he was not aware of it. He tried to open his eyes and stand up. He managed to do so, but when he turned around and started to survey his surroundings, he almost fell back down to the ground in horror as he beheld the most gruesome and ghastly scene he would ever witness in his entire life.

Oliver stood in the middle of ground zero in shock, confused as to why he was uninjured when strewn everywhere in the midst of the burning rubble were mangled, disfigured bodies. Outside, dangling on trees and bushes were…

He closed his eyes shut as tears began to flow like rivers. He didn't even want to think about how many had perished – many of which were innocent civilians – or about how many families had lost loved ones that day. All he could think about was her. Had she made it out in time?

Oliver's head snapped towards the direction of what used to be the rear exit of the hospital. He opened his eyes again and cried out in anguish, "Felicity!"

***************************  
Orion, Bataan  
April 14, 1942

"Felicity! Felicity!" The sound of Oliver's own screams violently wakes him up from the nightmare.

None of it was real.

His subconscious mind had played tricks on him while he lay on the bamboo floor of a secluded nipa hut beside a creek. His dream had been a confused concoction of reality and wishful thinking – reality, based on the little information that Nurse Snow had relayed to him just before she boarded the vessel for Corregidor, and wishful thinking that the woman he loved had somehow made it out before the fatal blast leveled the medical facility she was last seen in.

He hadn't been at the hospital in weeks, even when he learned that the Red Cross contingent from Manila that Felicity was part of had been relocated there in Little Baguio, and he had certainly not been there to witness the tragedy that Caitlyn had vaguely described with much distress and weeping. The crisis that had befallen the remaining USAFFE forces had been so severe, and he couldn't leave the ranks to make sure his girlfriend was safe, even if he wanted to. His superiors will not allow it, his fellow marines needed him, and his priority was to help defend their position in order to give the military and government leaders sufficient time to retreat to Corregidor Island before Mt. Samat was completely overrun by the Japanese. He knew she would understand; in fact, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she would hate him if he even attempted to desert his battalion on account of her. She'd never forgive him. Felicity was as much a patriot as he was.

Oliver's body is quaking and covered in bead-like sweat. His teeth are chattering, and his heartbeat is erratic. He is running a high fever because infection in his stab wound on the hip had set in, making him delusional. He barely makes out where he is. All he can see is light from what seems to be an oil lamp – an ironically faint but blinding light – and it hurts his eyes so much that he can hardly keep them open.

He can hear a voice, though. No, two voices, maybe three. Two are male, and another one is female. He can't figure out what they are saying because they are speaking in Tagalog, the language of the locals, but their hushed voices seem to indicate that they don't want him to hear everything they are saying.

The last thing he remembers before he passes out again is that the older of the two men comes near to remove his dog tag. He tries to resist, as if playing tug-of-war to keep his only proof of identity, but he is too weak to win. The young man takes his dog tag as he pleads, "No, please. Please don't take it. Please!"

***************************  
Orani, Bataan (same day)

About ten miles north of where Oliver is, Dante Ramon reaches his destination. Tired and out of breath, he knocks on the front door of a stone house.

At his mother's instruction, he had gone on foot in haste from their small village to get help for the wounded American that his younger brother Francisco had stumbled upon earlier that day when the young man was sent to retrieve their goat. He and his mother had heard rumors from a trusted friend that an American doctor and nurse had been rescued from the hospital in Little Baguio, which had been bombed by the Japanese a week ago. Dante had gone immediately to the town of Orani to ascertain the whereabouts of the rescued Red Cross personnel. Time was of the essence, and he had been relieved to learn that the Americans were brought to the home of the Yaras, a well-respected family that owned a general store in Orani.

"Tao po! Tao po!" Dante calls as he knocks on the front door of the two-story stone house.

A minute later, a lean, middle-aged man with gold-rimmed spectacles and a grayish, receding hairline unlocks and opens the door. Dante greets the older man who introduces himself as Mr. Protacio Yara, the very person Dante is seeking out. Mr. Yara lets him into the house.

Dante and Mr. Yara do not even get to sit down, because the moment Dante steps into the modest but spacious sala (living room) on the second floor, the words just flowed out of his mouth like the raging waters of a broken dam. Mr. Yara tries his best to keep up with the story of the young farmer, who is obviously not as educated as he is. As soon as the words "wounded American soldier" left Dante's lips, the respectable store owner realizes the urgency of the matter at hand.

Mr. Yara's eyes narrow and his forehead creases. He is deep in thought for a moment, and then he puts his hand on Dante's shoulder to get the younger man to calm down. He asks, "How sure are you that the American you speak of is a soldier, a prisoner of war, and not a civilian?"

Dante does not answer. Instead, he puts his hand into one of his pockets and brings out the dog tag he had removed from Oliver's neck. He hands it over to Mr. Yara, whose eyes widen at the sight of the object in Dante's open palm.

Mr. Yara examines the dog tag and then sighs. "Hmm... He's not just a soldier. He's a marine," he tells Dante. He then motions for Dante to follow him downstairs. He led Dante to a dimly lit storage room near the back part of the house where his family had set up a make-shift living space behind the stacked sacks of rice for the two American guests that had taken refuge in their humble home.

"Dr. Allen, Ms. Smoak, forgive me for the intrusion, but I'm afraid we have company. The friendly kind, it seems," Mr. Yara says softly.

Barry Allen and Felicity Smoak get up from their cots upon hearing their host's voice. They had retired early after eating supper upstairs with the family. It had been the first time that Felicity had actually enjoyed a meal since the invasion. Recovering from the initial shock of what she had survived and from some minor injuries she had sustained had certainly put a damper on her usually voracious appetite.

Brief introductions are made, and Mr. Yara immediately gets down to business. He understands the urgency and sensitivity of the situation. The injured marine is running out of time.

"Dr. Allen, according to Dante, his younger brother found an injured American marine, and they brought him into their home," Mr. Yara begins to explain.

"Where exactly did they find him?" Barry Allen asks.

"The marine had taken shelter near the shed on their rice field, off the road near Orion," Mr. Yara replies. "It appears he is among the prisoners of war that the Japanese have been forcing to march to the prison camps. They must have thought he was dead and just left him there to be collected later."

Barry nods his head in understanding. "Please, go on," he tells Mr. Yara.

"Dante and his mother have tried everything to keep the marine alive, but with only herbal remedies at their disposal, they can only do so much. Dante says the bullet that wounded his right side is still in there, and they can't get it out without causing more damage and endangering his life. Worse, it looks like the gaping wound on his hip, which Dante thinks may have been caused by a bayonet, has become infected. Dante says the poor man is now suffering from high fevers and hallucinations."

"He could go into septic shock anytime. He needs immediate medical attention," Barry responds. Neither Dante nor Mr. Yara have to plead with the American doctor to go and help the injured marine. Barry Allen takes a deep breath and then turns to Dante. "I will go back with you. When do we leave and how do we get there without being noticed by the Japanese patrols?"

"Barry, wait," Felicity interrupts the conversation. Although Barry is the doctor in their Red Cross team, they've been very good friends even before the war began, and with everything they've been through in the past few months, they'd thrown the formalities of addressing each other in terms of ranks and had preferred to talk on a first-name basis.

"You can't perform surgery with only one good arm," Felicity sternly pointed out.

Barry's right arm is still in a sling because his wrist had been fractured when the army truck they were in went out of control after the second blast and turned over on the side of the road just outside the gate of the hospital premises. Barry knows that Felicity is right. So far, in their friendship and in their line of work, she's been almost always right. She would have made an excellent female surgeon.

"I'm coming with you," she says confidently. "I've seen you do surgery on bullet wounds a number of times. I think I can do it with you guiding me every step of the way." It isn't a suggestion. It's more of a declaration, and all three men sense that her mind is made up. There is no use talking her out of it.

The four of them sit down to plan how Dante is going to bring Barry and Felicity from Orani to Orion without attracting the attention of local villagers who couldn't be trusted, and of Japanese soldiers who have started patrolling the town a few days ago. After a few minutes of arguing, they finally agreed that Dante and the two Americans will have to go on foot after midnight on an alternate route following the creek, way off the national road. Taking the store's delivery truck is out of the question as it will most likely be spotted and inspected by the Japanese.

Felicity is a bit worried about how she will fare, considering she is still nursing a sprained ankle in addition to the scratches and bruises that still inconvenienced her from time to time. The swelling on her ankle had gone down, and she'd been able to walk in the last three days, but a trek of more than ten miles on rugged terrain might take its toll on her healing ankle and slow down their journey. Also, she could see from the expression on Barry's face that he, too, is anxious about whether or not she is fit to go. She knows that he is more concerned about the mild concussion she had sustained in the vehicular accident they'd been in. Although her memory had returned completely since they started convalescing at the Yara home, she still gets slight headaches from time to time. However, an American marine's life is on the line. There is no choice to make. She swallows her anxieties and prepares her things.

"I will leave you two to prepare now," Mr. Yara tells them. "I will go ask my wife Nelia to prepare some food and water for you to bring. I shall also see what we have in the medicine cabinet upstairs that might help, with the fevers and the pain, maybe even for the infection. That young marine is going to need all the help he can get." With that, Mr. Yara leaves Dante with Barry and Felicity.

As they go about packing the few clothes and personal belongings that the Yara family had graciously given them in the last few days, Dante observes them quietly. It makes Felicity a bit self-conscious, so she decides to strike up a conversation with their new friend.

"So, Dante, what else do we know about this American marine you've rescued?" she asks.

Dante once again brings out the dog tag from his pocket. He stands from the stool he is sitting on and approaches her cautiously, his arm reaching out to hand her the metal tags. "Here, I took this from him. That's all we know," he says in broken English with a very native accent.

Felicity tilted her head, impressed that Dante had been smart enough to understand that the dog tag is the best way to establish the identity of the man he and his family are trying to save. She reached for the dog tag and brought it near the oil lamp to read what's on it.

When she reads the name on the tag, she nearly drops it as she gasps. With trembling lips, she whispers as she clutches her blouse in front of her chest, "John…"

Barry is surprised by her reaction. "You know him?" he asks curiously as he turns to her.

"Yes," she responds, her heart pounding excitedly within her. Concussion or no concussion, she's sure about the identity of the man in question. "Private John Diggle. He's a good friend of…" She swallows hard, as tears well up in her sad blue eyes. "John is a close friend of mine… and Oliver's. They're… in the 4th Marine Regiment together." A tear escapes her eye and rolls down her cheek.

John Diggle. He's been more than just a good friend as far as she is concerned. He is like the older brother she never had. Sometimes he understood her better than her own mother. He understood why her childhood dream was to be an engineer and why she had specifically wanted to pursue that vocation in the military. He had grown up in a navy family just like her and her sisters, so he knew what her aspirations meant to her. John had reasoned with Quentin that Felicity would make an excellent military engineer all throughout high school, and he supported her even when she had to switch to Plan B and take up nursing instead, encouraging her that she could still serve her country using her medical skills and compassion for people. John had even argued with Oliver when her "over-protective boyfriend" (as she sometimes referred to him) had tried to get her to change her mind about signing up for the Red Cross team that would be sent to the Philippines last December to augment the nursing staff when war broke out in Manila. John had always had her back, and she isn't about to let him down now that he needs help badly.

"Barry, we have to help him stay alive," Felicity pleads with her friend.

Felicity doesn't say more. She knows that Barry understands what she means. She sincerely wants to help John Diggle survive and recover, but more than that, she desperately wants to know whether or not Oliver is still alive. John would know. If he had survived, then Oliver might have survived too. If he had escaped the Death March as a POW, then Oliver might have escaped as well. If not, John might know which prison camp Oliver would be in. She could still try to find him when all of this war-related insanity is over.

Suddenly, the aches and pains on her body become trivial concerns, and her inward resolve to traverse ten long miles on foot just to see John becomes as solid as steel. Seeing John would be the closest she could get to Oliver under the circumstances, if Oliver is still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 3, 1942 was the day that the Japanese forces led by Gen. Masaharu Homma began their general offensive against the United States Forces in the Philippines or USFIP. (This was originally called the United States Armed Forces in the Far East or USAFFE, but its name was changed to USFIP. I decided to retain the use of USAFFE throughout this story to avoid confusion.) It was a special day for the Japanese: it marked the anniversary of the death of their first emperor Jimmu, a day of fasting and devout ceremonies. It was also an important day for the Filipinos and Americans because it fell on the religious observance of the Crucifixion of Christ, which was also a day of fasting and suffering among devout Catholics. To both sides of the war, it had been a day of sacrifice and gloom. By April 4th, a Japanese unit had succeeded on reaching the foot of Mt. Samat, which had served as a natural defense for the Fil-Am troops, and within the day, the strategic area fell into enemy hands. In the days that passed, the constant bombings and attacks had crushed defensive constructions, and the Filipino and American troops had been fiercely driven back towards the Manila Bay where they would be trapped between the water and the advancing Japanese troops. Many in their ranks had already been injured, over-fatigued, and demoralized. Many had not slept or eaten for days, and incidences of malaria had also been reported. By April 7th, the USFIP was almost crushed, and defeat was imminent. That was also the day when a hospital in Little Baguio near Orani, Bataan was indeed hit by Japanese. The account I read states that it wasn't known whether this happened intentionally or unintentionally; however, many died there that day, and the description I came across had given brief yet graphic details that I only partially alluded to in this chapter. On April 9th, Bataan fell, and Gen. Edward King surrendered the Bataan troops to the Japanese.
> 
> Just to clarify, Orion and Orani are two different towns in Bataan province. I wasn't trying to confuse you with a play on words.
> 
> I also thought that it was a good idea to get characters from my two favorite CW shows and use them as minor characters in this story who play Filipino roles. Most Filipino first names and family names are of Spanish origin because we were colonized by Spain for more than 300 years. The Ramon brothers from The Flash make their first appearance in this chapter. Guess which Hispanic character will appear later? The first one who guesses correctly will be the one that I will dedicate that chapter to. Game?
> 
> The nipa hut is the indigenous or traditional dwelling of Filipinos; it is made of dried leaves, bamboo, and wood. On the other hand, old stone houses in the Philippines built during the Spanish and early American colonial periods - like the one I pictured as the Yara family residence - usually had two floors. The first floor was not really a living area; it was normally used to store supplies. A staircase led to the second floor where the living space is - the living and dining rooms, bedrooms, and bathrooms. Usually the first floor walls were made of stone, but the second floor walls were made of wood and the sliding windows with capiz shells. (If you are interested in what these look like, Google the city of Vigan in Ilocos region of the Philippines). My father's family's ancestral home in Manila was one such house. We used to go there regularly for family parties and reunions when we were growing up. My father used to brag that he was the one who would clean and polish those wooden floors and the wide staircase that led to the sala on the second floor. I miss it now, as it was demolished about two years ago, because the new owners of the property built a modern building on top of it.
> 
> Do take some time to let me know your thoughts on our story so far, if you can. It really means a lot, and I love replying to comments, no matter how brief. Thanks again for reading and following this!


	4. Another Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante leads Felicity and Barry back to where they sheltered the wounded American marine.  
> Felicity reminisces along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling inspired all week, especially with how 5x10 went, so I got this done and ready for posting a day early. (smile & sigh) The flashback in this one is just about as long as the flashback in Chapter 2. I guess this is how it's going to be in the chapters that follow. As always, it would be nice to hear from you.

April 15, 1942

Somewhere between Orani and Orion, Bataan

An hour or so past midnight, Barry and Felicity bid farewell to the Yara family, expressing profound gratitude for the kindness and protection they have been shown in the past week. They are not sure whether or not they will see each other again, but Mr. Yara assures them that if they ever need his help, all they need to do is send word to him through a trusted courier like Dante. Mr. Yara specifically instructs them to use his pseudonym Pilosopo Tasyo instead of his surname, for any future communications with them.

Barry and Felicity depart from the back of the house towards the creek, which is less than a mile away, Dante leading the way. Only the moonlight guides them, as artificial sources of light would only draw unwanted attention along the way. When they reach the creek, they follow it downstream. Dante tells them that it will lead them straight to the hut where his family is hiding and caring for the injured American.

After a couple of miles, Felicity's sprained ankle begins to throb in pain slightly. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. She tells herself to keep going, reminding herself that this small sacrifice on her part is nothing compared to the sacrifice that John Diggle is making for their country and its allies. Moreover, she cheers herself on with the thought that she is only eight miles away from finding out what has happened to Oliver since she last saw him. Yet almost another mile later, she asks Barry and Dante if they could stop for a while to rest. Her ankle is practically begging for a break. The two men oblige, and she takes a seat on a large rock by the creek that had a somewhat flat surface.

Felicity lightly massages her sore feet and ankle, and then she drinks some water and takes a few bites of the bread that Nelia Yara had packed for them. She watches the creek and listens to the soothing sounds of the flowing water and the way it crashes against some of the rocks that are standing in its path. Her mind wanders off to a not-so-distant place and time in the past when the world she knew was a safer place to be.

*************************

Dearden Ranch, Northern California

Spring, 1937

"I wish we didn't have to go back tomorrow," Felicity said to Oliver.

She sat contentedly on the grass in Oliver's embrace. She was comfortably situated between his bent legs, her legs outstretched in front of her. She had her back leaning against his chest, and her head resting between his shoulder and his chin. He had one arm wrapped across her upper chest while his other forearm rested on his knee, as he sat and leaned his back against the tree that provided them shade from the sun, which they hadn't noticed had risen from the horizon hours ago and had been already directly above the scenic landscape in front of them. They hadn't even noticed skipping breakfast altogether.

Oliver and Felicity had been in the ranch for a few days, and that day, they had gone riding and sight-seeing since sunrise. The night before, he had asked if she would like to come with him on horseback and tour the entire Dearden property that stretched for acres beyond the ranch, promising that she won't regret getting up early when she sees the views of the hillside and the meadow at the foot of the nearby mountain. He was right, she thought. The awesome vistas were breath-taking, and the natural landscape her eyes adored brought peace and calmness to her soul.

After a couple of hours of riding, Oliver had brought her to his favorite spot on the stream where his grandfather had built a quaint and sturdy wooden bridge in honor of his grandmother on their wedding day and had called it "Lover's Bridge." It was where his own father, Robert Queen, had proposed to his mother Moira a little over twenty years ago. Oliver hadn't planned on proposing to Felicity yet that day – even if he intended to do so in the near future, Lord willing – because he had been only on the halfway marker at saving for the cost of buying her the perfect ring, which was a bit of a challenge on a humble marine's pay without any help from his parents. Still he brought her there because he wanted this to be their special spot as well.

Felicity was it for him. She was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and one day right there on Lover's Bridge, when the time is right, he was going to ask her on bended knee to marry him and become his wife.

But Felicity didn't know that. Not yet. All she knew and remembered was that she didn't want for that blissful moment with her beloved to end. She rubbed her temple against the scruff of his jawline, which he had not shaved since he got on the train to meet up with her in San Francisco. (She had only ever seen him clean shaven, but she found his new look during their vacation quite attractive.) She clung to his firm yet loving arm without a care in this world. She needed this – the silent solace that Oliver's presence and proximity were to her.

She had hardly any nursing classes left, and she and her fellow nurses-in-training had started going on hospital duty last September. The long hours she'd been spending on her feet during the day and during graveyard shifts had started to take their toll on her physical and emotional well-being, what with the impossible demands and expectations of many cranky and irritable patients at the geriatric ward that she had first been assigned to. But those were nothing compared to the challenges she had been facing recently at the mental health institution. The stress of working there was driving her crazy, and she might have complained in one of her more recent letters to Oliver that she feared she herself would go mad if she didn't get a breather soon. It had been a joke, but her boyfriend seemed to have taken it seriously.

So of course, the caring and protective instincts of Oliver had taken over. He had invited her to spend spring break with him at Dearden Ranch in time for his homecoming from the east coast and had taken care of all the travel arrangements and accommodations with the help of his parents and the ranch manager, Walter Steele. He had taken a train from North Carolina to San Francisco where he rendezvoused with Felicity, and they got on a bus headed to Starling City to visit Thea and his parents. A day after, they had driven to the ranch, which was just a few miles east of the city.

So, there they were, sitting peacefully and pleasurably in view of the nearby the stream, together again after not having seen each other for months.

The last time they had seen each other was when she visited him in North Carolina for Thanksgiving because she didn't want him to be alone on a holiday that she found out from Thea had always been important to his family. She had counted on him returning to San Diego with her to visit her family, because he had written in his letter a month prior that his specialized marksmanship training course had been completed. But when she arrived, he had broken the unfortunate news to her that he was being sent on a top-secret mission with a small team that Major Lawton a.k.a. Deadshot had especially assembled. Oliver hadn't said where and for how long.

So, she had gone back to California without him, feeling sad and blue because he had told her not to expect any letters from him for at least two months. Those had been the longest, loneliest two months of her life. She had even cried her heart out on Christmas day, and her mother and sister Sara had tried to comfort her to no avail. When at last the first letter from him came in the mail, Felicity had cried again out of a mixture of joy and relief and longing and frustration, even if the letter that had clearly been written in Oliver's handwriting was tangible proof that he was alive and well.

Felicity had cried once again at the train station in San Francisco upon seeing Oliver again, coming down from one of the passenger cars, unbelievably handsome in his crisp marine's uniform, which bore a new insignia that had made her even more proud – that of Lance Corporal. The moment he had looked up at her, she ran the remaining distance between them and leapt into his open arms, leaving her own suitcase behind. Throwing caution – and any tinge of timidity – to the wind, they had kissed each other senseless in full view of passersby. They hadn't cared what onlookers might have said; all they knew was that they had missed each other beyond words and they had been finally reunited.

So, there they were, enjoying each other's company – this time in the privacy and tranquil serenity of nature, endowed generously by its Creator.

They needed this time alone. They craved it. They had gone for weeks without communication, and months without seeing and touching each other. It had been too much for either of them to bear. Since the train station in San Francisco, Oliver and Felicity had been inseparable. She needed to constantly hold his hand or lean on his shoulder just to reassure her that he was real, that he was alive, and that he was safe. In the same way, he needed to constantly smell the fragrance of her hair or gaze into her mesmerizing eyes just to reassure him that she was not a dream (like in those dreams he had had during his time away in Parris Island and overseas on a mission); he needed to know that she was indeed with him, and that she was going to stay. Somehow, they sensed that they both disliked the likelihood that they would be apart again for longer periods of time because of their vocations, and that the anxieties of separation and the demands from their careers might soon cause the other to give up on the relationship.

"If only we could just… stay… this way," Felicity added, her voice trembling a bit.

Oliver put the hand that was resting on his knee on her thigh and began rubbing circles on it with his thumb. "I know," he said softly near her ear. "It pains me to think that we have to go back tomorrow. Do you really have to be back so soon?" he asked. He was supposed to take her back to San Francisco and then spend a couple of days in Starling with his family before he had to travel down to San Diego to report to his unit at Camp Pendleton.

"I have an evening shift at the asylum the day after tomorrow," she replied after taking a deep breath and releasing a sigh of disappointment.

"I'm going to miss you… so much," he said, holding her tighter against his chest.

"Me, too," she responded. Her eyes became glassy with tears, which she blinked away to keep from falling.

Then there was silence.

Oliver wanted to tell her about his fears for the future and about the burden that had been weighing down on his conscience lately. He had to take those shots under the direct order of Deadshot when things had gone south during their most recent covert operation overseas. A day later, it turned out that their intel had not been adequate, and his superiors had had him take out innocent civilians from a distance. While it was true that he was merely carrying out orders, he couldn't help but feel the guilt of having taken the lives of two men by mistake. He needed someone to talk to, but that mission had been classified. And even if he was at liberty to open up to her, he didn't want her to see even just a glimpse of the darkness that had begun to creep into his soul. She was his light, and she didn't deserve to glimpse the inward turmoil he was suffering. She was far too innocent for the evils of a broken, fallen world.

Well aware of his brooding thoughts and not wanting those to encroach upon their special and rare time together, Oliver decided to shift gears and change the topic to something else that had occupied his mind until the wee hours of the morning. It wasn't necessarily an easier subject to broach, but he was willing to take his chances on this one.

"Your lamp was on all night, and your door was ajar," he said to her. It was meant to be a question, but he didn't exactly know how to ask her about it.

"Mm-hmm," she replied quite tentatively. Felicity bit her lip in embarrassment. She didn't know how he was going to take her bold revelation, but she went ahead and expressed it anyway. "I was… I was hoping… you would come in."

"Oh," was all he said at first.

She felt the muscles of his arms tense up and stiffen around her. One second more and she would have regretted allowing herself to be so vulnerable, but Oliver spoke just in time to quell her misgivings.

"I wanted to," he responded, his voice low, soft, and affectionate. "You have no idea how much I wanted… to be with you last night. Three times I made it out of my room, and just stood outside yours, trying so desperately to keep it together," he confessed. He then paused, tenderly kissing the hair at the crown of her head. "But I couldn't. I couldn't do that to you, Felicity. I can't put you in the same position that your father… whatever his reasons were… had put your mother and you through. And I can't… I won't touch you out of an impulsive, reckless, spur-of-the-moment surge of passion, and then run off not knowing what tomorrow brings, not knowing where I'm going to be sent next or if I'm going to survive it to be able to come back to you. We live in perilous times, Felicity, and you deserve a secure future. You are beautiful and brilliant, but you are also pure and precious, and I want to honor you, more than my family or my country or anything else in my life. It's the right thing to do, because… I love you."

"Oliver…" She wanted to say more, but she'd been overwhelmed by his brave and sincere declaration of love and devotion. He hadn't spoken those three words yet since she became his girlfriend. This was the very first time, and his words were like honey on her tongue.

When she remained speechless for a few more seconds, he reiterated, "I love you. Do you understand?"

Felicity gazed up at him and nodded. She sensed that there was something else he wasn't telling her, but realizing how blessed she was to be in a relationship with a respectable, responsible man, she did not press him about it. She chose to trust him. She also recognized his sincerity and his strong sense of duty and dedication, and she loved him all the more for it.

"I do," she whispered in response, "and I love you too." Her answer made his heart flutter and then pound with exhilaration and pride.

In a swift, fluid motion, Oliver managed to flip them over and shift their position such that she lay on her back on the fresh, green grass and he was directly on top of her. He steadied himself, anchoring both his legs on the ground on either side of her, and bearing the weight of his upper body on his elbows so as not to crush her beneath his bigger, heavier frame. The rise and fall of their chests made them keenly aware of how close they were to each other, which heightened their senses and deepened the connection they already shared. She could feel his warm breath on her face, as she wondered in nervous anticipation what was going to happen next.

Their lips were just a few inches apart when he asked, "Will you wait for me?"

She smiled and brought both her hands up to his chest. She replied, "Yes, for as long as it takes."

The corners of his lips turned up because he could see the sincerity of her answer in her eyes. "Can you wait until we're married?" he asked a second time.

She took a deep breath and answered, "I can." She moved the palms of her hands upwards from his chest to his shoulders, and then she tenderly grasped the back of his neck. "I promise. Just tell me when you're ready. I'll be right here waiting, Oliver. Until then, there'll be no one but you."

As soon as he heard her words of reassurance and hope, he lowered himself upon her, and their lips met in an earnest kiss, her hands lovingly caressing his short, cropped hair. It was their moment, and they celebrated their promise of love and commitment, with the trees and the stream and the clouds in the blue sky – and every touch of skin to skin they welcomed from one another – as their witnesses. The passion ignited by such intimacy warmed them all over, inside and out, in the coolness of the spring breeze beneath the shade. When they finally broke the kiss almost a minute later, both were breathless but temporarily satiated, well within the boundaries they had amicably agreed upon.

"Wow, that was…" Felicity couldn't put into words how ecstatic she was feeling.

"Incredible," Oliver finished, smiling affectionately down on her. He chuckled mildly and then said to her, "What do you say we go for a dip in the stream?" He needed to cool off, and he could tell that she needed it, too.

He didn't wait for an answer. He quickly got up, removed his riding shoes, and rolled up the hems of his trousers, motioning for her to follow suit. She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded, as she got up. She took off her shoes and began working on her own pair of slacks, which Sara had given her before she left for San Francisco and brought with her to the ranch for the outdoor activities that Oliver had planned for them. As soon as she was ready, he took her by the hand and they scrambled cheerfully to the stream in front of them. They waded and splashed water on each other, teasing and laughing their hearts out, and when they had had enough fun, they got out of the water and lay on their backs on the grass under the sun to dry off.

Sadly, they did part ways the next day. Felicity held on to his hand for as long as she could and did not board the bus until it was absolutely time for it to leave the Starling City station. Oliver, on the other hand, stood on the same spot until her bus became a tiny speck in the distance.

Oliver returned to Camp Pendleton and rejoined his unit as newly promoted Lance Corporal Oliver Jonas Queen, his will more focused than before. Before he went on spring break, he had heard about the rumors that the 4th Marines will soon be deployed to Shanghai, China to reinforce the American troops that had been trying to keep the conflicting Chinese and Japanese troops from penetrating the American sector "by means other than rifle fire" in order to avoid an all-out war between the two sides that the U.S. would inevitably get caught in the middle of. He had received a special kind of training that such situations called for when he was recently sent overseas, and he knew that he was going to be sent either to the frontlines of skirmishes or to more covert operations. Because all he had to go on were rumors, he couldn't tell Felicity when they were together at the ranch, but he knew that as soon as the rumors were confirmed to be factual and the orders were out, he would have to send word to her and bid her farewell. Again. For heaven knows how long.

*************************

April 15, 1942

Orion, Bataan

It takes them three hours to finally reach their destination, longer than what Dante had estimated. Felicity feels bad that she had slowed them down, but neither Dante nor Barry calls her out on it. Soon the roosters will crow to signal the dawn of another day.

They are still a few meters away from the nipa hut by the creek when they are met by Dante's younger brother Francisco – the one who had found Oliver behind the shed in the rice field. Holding an oil lamp in his hand, Francisco tells them to wait a few minutes outside the hut until his mother, Aling Elena, tells them that it's okay to go in. Apparently, the delirious American who needed their help had relieved himself almost an hour ago in the most unpleasant of conditions, and Aling Elena had found him lying miserably on his own feces and urine. The kind lady has been busy cleaning and changing him while Francisco helped tidying up the place where the man lay. Barry and Felicity offer to help, but Francisco tells them that his mother is almost done with the laborious task.

Dante agrees and tells his new friends, "Thank you, but I know what Nanay and the old folks will say. It is not proper for a single woman to see a naked man, even if he is ill." Dante blushes and smiles at Felicity, who simply nods at his words.

About five minutes later, Aling Elena emerges from the nipa hut. "Kiko," she calls her younger son, "please take these dirty clothes and wash them in the creek. There's soap in the batalan." She then turns to their American visitors and asks them to come inside.

Barry enters first, followed by Felicity. The American marine is facing the wall and his back is turned against them, so the first thing Felicity notices are the man's bandaged feet. She also notes the faint blood stains on his side and on his hip, seeping through the fresh, clean clothes he just got changed in. But when her eyes fix themselves on the man's sandy blonde hair and the light-colored skin of his nape and forearms, they narrow in puzzlement. She stops dead in her tracks, and a few more seconds after, she turns to Dante and Francisco who are behind her and firmly demands, "Where is John Diggle, and what have you done with him?"

With a grave expression on her face, she takes another bold step towards Dante and asks again, "Where is Private John Diggle, and what have you done with him?!"

Dante and Francisco stand frozen on their spot near the doorway, confused as to why the seemingly fragile blonde woman has become suddenly upset, transforming into an angry, high-strung interrogator right before their eyes. Aling Elena does not say a word. It is Barry who finds the words to say.

"Felicity, what is going on?" Barry asks. He is just as confused as the members of the Ramon family.

Felicity turns back to Barry and tells everyone in the hut, "Private John Diggle is my friend. I know him very well, and I am positive that that man lying there is NOT him."

"How can you be so sure?" Barry asks again. "You haven't even looked at his face."

"Whoever that man is, he's not John, because John is black American!" she yelled, not even thinking if anyone could hear.

Barry does not respond. He is too busy processing what Felicity had just said. Francisco is taken aback by her loud voice, and Dante still has no idea what to say.

Aling Elena speaks for her sons, her hands akimbo on her hips. "How can that be, Miss? I saw my son take the metal tags from his very neck, so we could offer proof of his identity. Now you're telling us that that man is not who he is supposed to be. Does that mean we've been taking care of an impostor?" She looks at Felicity with a frown on her face and adds, "Are you accusing us of deceiving you? All we've been trying to do is to save that black man's life!"

"Whoa, wait a second," Barry intervenes before things get out of hand. "Just wait, okay? No one is accusing you of anything, Aling Elena. My friend is just upset and got a little carried away." Barry glares at Felicity, warning her not to say anything more and to just let him handle the situation. "I'm sure this is all a big misunderstanding. There must be a logical explanation to this mix up."

Felicity takes a deep breath. "Forgive me, Aling Elena. I didn't mean to be so rude," she says.

She does not look at any of them when she speaks, but she cautiously approaches the man lying on the bamboo floor. She kneels down beside him and places her hand on his shoulder.

"Felicity…?" Barry speaks in a cautious tone.

She pulls the wounded marine's shoulder towards her so that she could see what the man looked like. And when she sees who he is, she gasps, her hand coming up to cover her lips. Her heart skips a beat and all she manages to say next is, "Oliver…"

Heaven seems to have given them both another chance at life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: 
> 
> First of all, the choice for Mr. Protacio Yara's pseud was not a random one. "Pilosopo Tasyo" is a prominent character in a controversial novel titled Noli Me Tangere (Latin for "Touch Me Not"), which was written originally in Spanish by the national hero of the Philippines, Dr. Jose Rizal, years before the Philippine Revolution against the Spanish colonial government was sparked by his martyrdom. Tasyo is characterized by his wit and wisdom, as well as his figurative manner of communicating his ideas, which were often commentaries, criticisms, and responses to the unjust treatment and real-life experiences of Filipinos under the Spanish regime. I thought that giving my OC Tasyo's name as a pseudonym does not only sound like a nickname for Protacio, but is also a tribute to our national hero, who inspired nationalism among our people more than 50 years before the Japanese occupied our islands and even more heroes emerged.
> 
> Second, I'd like to say that I tried to do some research on the U.S. Marine Corps ranks, and despite the things I've discovered, I still am far from being knowledgeable on the topic. So, if there is something amiss about how Oliver has gotten promoted from an enlisted Private to Lance Corporal in a span of only two years, please just bear with me and forgive any inaccuracy on my part. Oliver will definitely be promoted again during the course of the flashbacks in this story until he reaches the rank of 2nd Lieutenant when he becomes a POW in 1942. I'm trying my best, but this is all that my free time permits for now.
> 
> Third, I hope no one was offended when I used the term "black American" to describe John Diggle. I understand that the politically correct term nowadays is "African-American," and that's what I normally use in spoken or written English. But I realize that was not how people spoke of African-Americans back in those days. I did some reading and found that "black American" was commonly used during those times, so I went with it to be consistent with the context.
> 
> "Aling" in Aling Elena's name is actually not a first name among Filipino women. Its a polite title or term for an older woman that is not a relative or a close friend. "Nanay" means mother. I also chose to use the most common nickname for Francisco among Filipinos, which is Kiko, instead of the Western counterpart Cisco.
> 
> Also, a "batalan" is the back part of a traditional Filipino home, which serves like a dirty kitchen or a place for washing and storing everyday stuff in the house.
> 
> Thank you once again for reading and following this story. It's always a joy to know what you think about how the story is unfolding.


	5. Found and Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity saves Oliver's life with Barry's help. Oliver wakes, and their reunion takes an unexpected turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for bearing with me. I apologize for the longer wait on this update. I was in the middle of writing this chapter during Valentine's week when inspiration struck and a new idea for an Arrow medieval AU fic just wouldn't leave me alone. So I went with it, and so far, it's being received well in this site and in FF. You can check it out if you're interested: "The Arrow's Bride." Well, so much for that. Here's the continuation of this historical fic that's gotten me all wound up lately. I hope you like it.

April 15, 1942  
Orion, Bataan

Felicity is exhausted. Tremendously exhausted.

This isn't the first time she'd been on her feet for hours due to a delicate medical procedure. She has assisted in numerous surgeries before. She has also experienced 48-hour shifts a few times in the more recent years of her short but eventful nursing career – most of them in the last few months since her Red Cross team arrived in the Philippines in December to reinforce the team of army nurses in Manila when the USAFFE confirmed that the threat of Japanese invasion was imminent. But this is a different kind of fatigue. Everything ached, from her head to the soles of her feet, but nothing in her body hurt more than her heart, which no one else sees.

She can't wait to finish scrubbing her bloody hands with soap and rinsing them with clean water. It feels like it's taking forever for the scarlet stains to come off, and she doesn't even want to think about how she is going to remove all the blood from her dress, which is one of only three plain and simple everyday clothes that Mrs. Yara had handed down to her in the past week. But that's just the least of her inconveniences. One of her eyelids is twitching, her back is stiff and sore, and her arms are tired. Her knees are numb, and her legs – well, they feel like they're going to give out any second.

She hadn't slept all night, just like Barry, and the ten-mile trek had taken its toll on her. But they could not afford the luxury of rest and regular sleep, because Oliver had needed immediate medical attention.

Felicity and Barry had been on their knees on a thin mattress, bending over Oliver for at least four hours. The Ramon family could not provide a suitable table that was high enough and long enough for Oliver's six-foot frame, so Aling Elena lent them her own bamboo papag. That native bed was lower (and shorter) than most beds that Americans are used to lying on, standing a little more than a foot from the bamboo floor of the nipa hut. Oliver's legs dangled from the edge at mid-calf, but the piece of furniture was better than the floor itself, so they had gone ahead with the procedure under less than conducive circumstances.

Felicity had been relieved and thankful to find Oliver still alive, though unconscious, but she had also been deeply anxious that he is in a life-threatening condition. Barry confirmed that Oliver's stab wound was infected and that the bullet in his side needed to be removed as soon as possible. However, they couldn't operate on Oliver immediately because he'd been running a fever, so they gave him medicine for it. He was half-awake but not lucid for less than a minute, and they had taken advantage of that. Felicity supported his head and neck from behind, and Barry forced him to swallow the pill followed by a swig of drinking water. After about an hour, they had managed to bring down his temperature.

The surgery had taken longer than what it normally took for Barry to accomplish himself, yet he had complimented Felicity for doing a commendable job of carefully and skillfully removing the bullet in Oliver's right side and closing up the wound with meticulous suturing. When that was done, she had immediately gotten to work on the stab wound on Oliver's right hip, once again thoroughly cleaning the wound, removing the infected secretions, and painstakingly stitching the wound closed. Surprisingly, Oliver had slept through the entire procedure, groaning and flinching every once in a while, when the local anesthetic wore off. Each time, Dante had patiently held him down as Barry literally single-handedly re-administered some more procaine on the areas Felicity was working on. (They had run out of procaine before she was done, because Mr. Yara had had only a limited supply of the anesthetic in his store.) Under Barry's guidance and assistance, Felicity had done remarkably well for her first (and hopefully, last) surgery using only improvised materials as instruments and the meager medical supplies from Mr. Yara's home and general store, which the sympathetic businessman was able to send with them when they left Orani.

Felicity had been successful in keeping herself from falling apart in front of Barry and the Ramons, ever since they arrived and discovered that the seriously wounded marine was none other than Oliver Queen, the love of her life. She had wanted to be alone just so that she could vent her pent-up emotions, so she borrowed some soap and told them that she would wash herself in the creek instead of in the Ramon house.

But now, the tears won't stop falling. She cries, as she rinses her hands briskly with water for the third time, even when there is nothing left to rinse.

Her heart can't seem to take much more – of the sight and smell of blood. Of the agony and anguish of injured people, who may be strangers to her but are dearly loved by families that she will never meet. Of not seeing her friends Caitlyn and Iris, John and Tommy, and possibly, of not seeing her own family ever again. Of the cruelty of war and the madness of it all. Of the burden of having the life and survival of the only man she has ever loved with all of her heart entrusted precariously into her novice hands. Of having nearly lost him forever – because of this horrendous strife among nations that they had gotten entangled in – had God not intervened in time.

So, she sobs with all her might, where and when no one else but the rushing waters of the creek could see or hear. She allows herself a moment of weakness, just this one time – when her walls of defense and the façade of strength are down. She makes her soul vulnerable in her solitude. She breaks down, burying her face in the hands that had saved her beloved's life, the hands she had kept steady and unwavering for hours but are now trembling and wet with fresh water and saline tears. Because she knows that when she goes back to the hut, she must regain calmness and composure. She has to keep herself together in front of Barry and their new Filipino friends. She knows that as soon as Oliver wakes up, she has to be strong for him. For them.

When she composes herself, she dries away her tear-stained face and soaked hands with a clean towel. Finding a row of thick foliage nearby, she hides behind it and changes into a clean, sleeveless dress that flared from her waist down to her knees. She folds the soiled and bloody one, which she decides to wash later in the day. She doesn't think it would make a difference anyway if she washes it now or in the afternoon. She's just so tired. She then returns to the nipa hut with every intent to rest.

Maybe she can lie down for an hour or two, until Oliver regains consciousness, she thinks. She is sure that the moment her back makes contact with the thin mattress that Aling Nena had prepared for her on the bamboo floor right beside the native bed where Oliver lies, she would be out at the count of three.

She is right.

******************************

Oliver comes to, just before noontime. With his eyes still closed, it takes him a few seconds to become aware that he is already awake. He is still in pain, but he is no longer shivering, and he notices that his body temperature isn't as high as it was the last time he'd been sentient. He moves slightly to feel for his wounds with his hands, yet even the slightest movement sends a sharp, shooting pain in his right side radiating throughout the rest of his body up to the tips of his limbs. He touches his side and feels for his ribs, and he is surprised that his bullet wound is covered in gauze, with a bandage wrapped all around his torso to support it. He is equally astonished that the stab wound on his hip has been dressed very well. He realizes that he should be grateful for his present condition, but he cannot help but be puzzled as to how this had happened – and all while he was sleeping.

Who had done this for him? Which brave and compassionate soul had offered help? Who is he supposed to thank for saving his life?

He slowly opens his eyes and finds the answers to his questions in the blonde-haired woman lying down on the floor beside the native bed where he lay. She lies on her side facing the entrance of the hut and has her back turned against him, so her face is hidden from view. Her head rests on one of her bent arms in the absence of a pillow. What catches his undivided attention, though, is not just her tangled yet beautiful golden hair splayed messily behind her on the mattress. It is also the smooth contour of her body from her neck and shoulder all the way down to her arms, hips, and legs. She must have shifted in her sleep, he thought, because a portion of the hem of her dress had ridden up to reveal the creamy white skin of her calves and the lower part of her thighs. This woman is a delightful sight to behold – no matter how ironic, in the midst of this tropical hell-hole of strife and suffering far away from home. The outline of her frame seems oddly familiar. She actually reminds him of… her.

Oliver closes his eyes for a moment, trying to conjure up images from past memories of his Felicity. He remembers how much he loved running his fingers through her majestic mane when she wears her hair down instead of gathering them up in a ponytail. He remembers the day he first saw her without her spectacles, when she told him the good news that her eye specialist had said that she could already do without her corrective lenses; he recalls thinking how privileged he was to look deep into her tantalizing blue eyes without the obstruction of prescription lenses anymore. He remembers the times his arms would snake around her waist and pull her into his side when they walked in the park. He also remembers the first time he had seen her wearing denim shorts one summer on the beach in southern California when he had admired her attractive, well-sculpted legs and had felt like he was envied by every other guy that passed them and took notice of his girl. He remembers every time he had held her in his arms in a warm embrace and ran the palms of his hands up and down her gorgeously arched back when she'd gone to MCB to send him off to his next assignment, to reassure her that he was going to be fine.

He opens his eyes again, and this time, he notices the obvious abrasions on her arm that have dried up and formed scabs, as well as the palpable bruises on her legs, now light green and yellowish in color. His eyes flit down to her feet, and he notices the slightly reddish swelling of one of her ankles. He frowns and muses, speculating that this woman must have also gone through a terrible ordeal and survived it like he had. Realizing that he isn't alone in his deplorable state brings him temporary comfort. But soon, he feels sorry for the angelic stranger; he refuses to believe that someone like her deserved even just a fraction of the same miseries and misfortunes that he is now enduring to atone for his sins.

A single solemn tear escapes the corner of his eye and slides down his temple, wetting his ear. He wishes with all of his might that the woman lying beside him might somehow become her, even if he knows full well that this brand of wishful thinking scarcely ever comes true.

Except this time, destiny graciously grants it.

The mysterious woman turns in her sleep and lies on her back, letting out a soft moan. The familiar sound startles Oliver. His breath hitches as he recognizes the profile of her face. He could hardly believe his eyes and ears. Can it be? How is it possible?

"Felicity…" he utters softly. It is such a beautiful name, and he savors it with his lips.

**************************

Felicity had not always been a light sleeper. Donna often boasted that her daughter had been endowed with the precious gift of sleep that her sisters could only envy her for. You could light up firecrackers and set up some fireworks like those on the Fourth of July or on New Year's Eve, and she could still sleep through them if no one bothers to wake her up to join the festivities. She could take power naps on her desk in school while waiting for the next teacher to arrive. She could sleep like a log during road trips, no matter how rough or bumpy the countryside roads are. One time her roommate in the San Francisco boarding house for nurses-in-training had gotten away with "borrowing" the only evening dress she'd packed from home to attend said roommate's boyfriend's frat party Friday night and then returning it washed, dried, and pressed in her closet the following day by the time she woke up for brunch.

All that had changed when she started going on nursing duty. Her sleeping patterns had changed since then. Now, the slightest squeaking sound could wake her. She could even sense someone's presence in the same room while she's asleep. It's like she had grown a sixth sense, which has especially become keener since the onset of the Japanese invasion in Manila and the retreat of the USAFFE to Bataan.

When Felicity hears her name spoken – ever so tenderly – her first thought is that it is simply a dream. After all, intense emotions can create a make-believe world or bring her back to the past when she had enjoyed private moments wherein he would speak her name affectionately. Only one person can let her name roll off his tongue this way, she thought. That thought forces her to wake up and open her eyes.

She turns her head towards the man lying on the native bed, the same man she had operated on just a few hours ago. The man who had nearly lost his life. The one whom she never thought she'd see again. Her Oliver.

When their eyes met, blues on blues, both of them take deep breaths. A small, tender smile forms on her lips as tears begin to well up in her eyes. Even though she feels like her chest is about to explode with so much joy, she whispers calmly, "Hey," as her gaze locks on to his. It is a miracle she can even speak a word without her voice breaking.

She is not sure whether or not he is happy to see her, because he doesn't smile back. Instead he shuts his eyes and grits his teeth. His forehead creases and the rest of his face wrinkles as he slightly shakes his head in disbelief.

"Oliver?" she says to him.

All he does is shake his head vigorously.

She gets up and kneels at his bedside, cupping his one cheek with her loving hand. "Oliver, do you know who I am? It's me. Felicity."

"No," was his brief reply.

"No? It's me. Don't you recognize me?" she asks him.

For a moment, there is a deafening silence. Felicity does not know what to do or what to say. She's not sure if he is genuinely incoherent or if he is suffering from memory loss. She takes a deep breath while caressing his scruffy cheek with her thumb, and then she presses on courageously.

"Oliver, it's me. Felicity, your…" She cuts herself short and dropped her gaze down to the floor as the pang of guilt grips her heart. When they had last parted, things had not gone well between them. She had refused his marriage proposal a second time, and she knows that he had taken it hard.

"No, no! It can't be," he asserts his previous response, still with eyes closed shut. "You're not real."

She looks back at him and answers, "Yes, I am. I'm here, and I'm taking care of you. Everything's going to be okay. You're going to be okay." The tears she'd been keeping at bay begin to fall. "Oliver, please. Open your eyes and look at me. I'm here. I'm real. I'm here with you, and I'm not leaving… not this time… not anymore." Her voice is full of conviction but laced with regret. She sniffs and wipes away her tears with her free hand.

"How?" Oliver asks, confused. "Caitlyn told me…"

"Caitlyn and her group of army nurses left the hospital before we did. Red Cross staff were the last ones out. I made it out… just before… just before the last bomb hit. I… I'm alive, Oliver. And so are you." She bends over and kisses his cheek on a spot near where her teardrops landed. "We both survived."

Upon hearing those words, Oliver opens his eyes slowly. He brings his hand up and grips her wrist. His grip is tight, desperation and disbelief evident in his touch. She does not resist or pull back; instead, she peppers the back of his hand with tender kisses, as they both shed tears of inexplicable joy.

"I still can't believe it's you," Oliver says after a while. "When I woke up and first saw you sleeping, I honestly thought I was in heaven, with an angel by my side," he says, thinking out loud.

Felicity lets out a gentle laugh. "I'm hardly an angel right now, Oliver. Far from it. I mean, look at me. I haven't even combed my hair! But if it works for you, then go with it," she responds with a dash of humor. "After all, from what I hear, that's what the soldiers are calling us nurses – angels. Angels of Bataan, they say. It has a nice ring to it. Don't you think so?"

Oliver nods his head. "Yeah. I heard some of the guys call them that just before Bataan fell. Last we heard, Caitlyn and some of the army nurses were sent to Corregidor to tend to the wounded there. Others were sent home to safety." He pauses, wondering how those dauntless, selfless women and the Filipino and American forces on the island are faring. "Have you heard any news about Corregidor?"

"No. Not since we were rescued by villagers in Orani," Felicity replies.

Oliver lets go of her wrist and holds her hand instead. He intertwines their fingers and says, "It doesn't matter. Not to me, at least." He sounds sad, almost despondent, and Felicity notices it, including the indifference in the tone of his voice. "What matters to me now is that you're here. With me." He swallows hard and winces at the dryness of his throat.

Felicity reaches for a glass of water on the wooden stool next to the bed and helps him drink some water. "Well, what matters to me right now is that you recover from your injuries," she says to him as she lays him back down. "You had a serious brush with death, and that was… It was a very close call." She clears her throat and blinks away her tears. She sighs deeply, considering how dangerously close she had been to losing him. She realizes that he could have breathed his last under her knife.

"I know. And I'm glad you're here now," Oliver responds. "You came for me." The corners of his lips turn up to a weak smile, showing appreciation for what she had done.

Again, Felicity opts to lighten the mood with some humor. "Actually, I came for John." She purses her lips and smiles at him. It's the truth, and he realizes what she means when he remembers that he and his trusted friend had indeed switched dog tags during the shakedown just before the Death March had commenced.

Felicity meant to tease, but she failed at it. For as soon as the single-syllable first name of their dear friend left her lips, she is overcome with worry. Anxiously, she asks, "Oliver, where is John?"

It takes him several seconds to think of a response that is truthful and yet unalarming. He takes a deep breath, which makes him wince in pain, and says, "We were in the march together."

"The… the Death March?" she clarifies.

"Yes," he replies. "Is that what people are calling it? Because they couldn’t go any farther from the truth." He stops speaking for a while, trying to rein in his emotions as images of soldiers starving, suffering, dying, and being murdered in cold blood crossed his mind.

He then remembers that he is supposed to be telling her about John. "The last thing I remember before passing out is that John was trying to defend me… and… and Tommy." At the thought of his late best friend, Oliver is no longer able to contain his grief and a host of other emotions that go with it. He breaks down in front of his girl, sobbing like a lost little boy.

******************************

Felicity realizes what Oliver's crying means. Tommy didn't make it. Their friend is gone.

So, she weeps with him, rubbing the tears off his cheek with the thumb of her hand while running her other hand through his hair. "Shh, shh… It's okay, Oliver. Tommy is in a better place now," she tells him, "so much better than this hell hole we're in. We should be happy for him."

They cry together for a few more minutes, and then Oliver asks her, "What day is it?"

She gathers her thoughts for a moment, counting the days since she was last on duty in the hospital in Little Baguio. "Today must be the 15th of April. Why do you ask?"

"If John survived the march, he should be in one of the prison camps in Central Luzon by now. That was where they were taking us – thousands of us, Felicity – Americans and Filipinos," Oliver answers.

At his words, Felicity's true self surfaces from beneath the conflicted emotions of joy and sorrow that floods her heart. Courageously she declares, "We have to get him out. Oliver, you have to get better so that we can go get John."

Oliver removes his gaze from his beloved and fixes it on the roof directly above him. He retracts his hand from having touched her, folds his hands and places them on his abdomen. Felicity senses the wall that he has suddenly built between them, and it hurts her, just like it had hurt him when she walked away the last time they saw each other.

"No," is all he says, his voice low and stern and resolute.

"But it's John," she points out sharply, her eyes scanning his face for hints of why he spurns her plea.

A few seconds pass, and then he adds, "No. I can't. I am not going on a suicide rescue mission, and I most certainly am not taking you with me. I am going to survive this war, and I am going to do everything to make sure that you make it through safely as well. When this war is over, I am going home, and I am taking you with me. I am done fighting someone else's battles. And no one else is going to die by my hands, except if it's because I have to keep you safe."

What he says disillusions her. How he says it frightens her. It's as if she is listening to a stranger. The valiant marine she knows would never leave a fellow marine behind, especially not one who is a close friend. The Oliver she knows would fight for his country's honor and defend the oppressed to his last breath, or he would at least die trying. The man she loves would never give up, and never put his own well-being before others. She realizes that the man before her has become someone else – someone she doesn't seem to know or understand.

What has happened to her Oliver? What atrocities has he seen that transformed him into a craven soul? How can he turn back from his duty to serve others and to serve his country? Do they still share a common cause? Hasn't he learned from their previous conflicts that she cannot and will not just stand by and let people suffer if she can do something about it, especially not the people she cares about?

A bitter tear falls from the corner of her eye as she bites her lower lip. She loves him still, and very much so, but she knows that she has to be true to who she really is. She runs the risk of losing him again, perhaps this time for good, but she can't turn back from what she believes in, in the name of love. She recalls what she had just told him – that she isn't going to leave him ever again. She isn't. But she is willing to let him go. If he wants to.

"Oliver," she says calmly but firmly, "I'll take care of you until you get better. And when the time is right and you get the chance, go home to your family, if that's what you really want. But please, don't expect me to go with you."

Oliver shuts his eyes and grits his teeth. He resents her stubbornness and idealism in the face of the havoc wreaked by war. They had just miraculously found each other, and now he fears that he may lose her again, this time irrevocably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: When Bataan fell and the joint forces of the Americans and Filipinos surrendered to the Japanese on April 9, 1942, a group of U.S. Army and Navy nurses were also captured and imprisoned. Those 77 nurses became the largest group of American women ever captured and imprisoned by an army in a war in recorded history. All of them had survived the Japanese occupation until they were liberated by U.S. forces in 1945. They had faithfully performed their duties and tended to the sick and wounded in the internment camps, working in regular shifts led by senior nurses like Maude Davison and Josephine Nesbit, who had courageously maintained morale and structure among the nurses in the midst of dire circumstances such as disease and calorie deprivation.
> 
> In the early 1940s, American nurses had sought assignments in the tropical islands of the Philippines for a taste of exotic adventure. In their free time, they had enjoyed golf, dining, romance, and the slower-paced lifestyle in the tropics. In the morning of December 8, 1941, just 10 hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor in Hawaii that had debilitated the U.S. Pacific Fleet, the Japanese fighter planes began to bomb the capital city of Manila, where the Sternberg Hospital was located. The nurses suddenly became very busy tending to the injured casualties. By December 25, the ground battle began, and the medical personnel of Sternberg, including the nursing staff, retreated to the Bataan Peninsula where they set up a field hospital under less than favorable conditions that involved mosquitoes and malaria and dysentery. By April, some American troops retreated to Corregidor Island with army nurses as the Japanese advanced; there the nurses endured long hours of shifts in the make-shift underground hospital of the Malinta Tunnel as bombs exploded on the surface. I had the chance to tour Corregidor 10 years ago and was able to walk through those dark tunnels that have now been converted into a museum of light and sound, reenacting the Battle of Corregidor. It was quite an experience.
> 
> Those brave nurses became known as the "Angels of Bataan," because of their bravery and sacrifice and their dedication in the service of the wounded - about 6,000 patients over a period of 4 months until the Fall of Bataan - even if bombs kept falling around them on a regular basis. They had also been a source of comfort to the injured and demoralized American and Filipino soldiers in the face of impending doom and defeat. The characters of Felicity and Caitlyn Snow in this fic are a tribute to the heroism of these extraordinary women. Our story takes place with these events as the backdrop. If you want to know more, visit history.com and search "angels of bataan," or watch the old Hollywood movie "So Proudly We Hail" starring Claudette Colbert, which romanticized the legendary story of these heroic military nurses.
> 
> If you are wondering about the local anesthetic that Felicity and Barry used on Oliver, it had to be the aminoester procaine, which I read was developed in 1904 for clinical use. By 1942, it would have been fairly common and accessible to the public. I wanted it to be the more familiar lidocaine, but it turns out it hadn't been developed for clinical use prior to 1943.
> 
> Well, do tell how this chapter was for you. I sure would appreciate hearing from you if you can spare the time to leave a review. The next chapter will feature flashbacks again. I think it works that the flashbacks happen every other chapter. Thanks again for reading and following this story!


	6. Rainy Days (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity moves on. Oliver is stuck. But they are both miserable without each other during a season in the tropics that reminds them of the issues in their relationship. New characters are introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! And I am so glad to be back! Thank you so much to all of you who responded to my two apologies and one question a couple of weeks ago. Your reassuring words and your patience have prompted me to keep going. I am grateful. Thank you!!!
> 
> I'm so sorry it has taken almost two months to post an update on this story. Life has been complicated. And for a time during episodes 5x15 to 5x17, the developments on the show were quite discouraging that I temporarily lost the drive to write. But this story is special and dear to my heart, so... it's back. I have replaced the previous announcement with this legit chapter, but I have copy-pasted that announcement in the author's notes at the end.
> 
> I hope you like this latest update. There is a time jump as we pick up from where we left off. The chapter is actually split into two because of its length. It was quite difficult writing this one, but when the words started flowing, I couldn't stop. It actually took on a life of its own. I'll be posting the second part immediately after this one. After my long hiatus, I thought that you who keep following this and leaving encouraging words would appreciate reading two chapters. It's all written down and proofed anyway. Do let me know what you think; I always appreciate comments and love replying to each one.

June 12, 1942  
Orani, Bataan

Felicity sits by the window of the dimly lit and cramped room that she had no choice but to call her home. For now, or more realistically, for who knows how long. The make-shift clinic of the Red Cross (or what is left of it in Bataan) is below the room that she shares with her other co-workers. Margaret Utinsky, or Marge as the older woman preferred to be called, is an American nurse who is older than her by more than ten years, and who has been with the American National Red Cross or ANRC for the same number of years. They worked and lived with two young Filipino women who are Felicity's age and used to be volunteers with their Red Cross team from their stint at the Sternberg Hospital in Manila until they were transferred to the hospital in Little Baguio, Bataan. The four of them are all that remain of Dr. Barry Allen's team. Felicity still wonders at times whether or not their good friend, nurse Caitlyn Snow, had made it alive when Bataan fell last April.

Felicity stares blankly at nothing, her chin resting lazily on her arms that are folded on top of the window sill. To the passersby that might look up at her, holding umbrellas or wearing wide-rimmed native hats, the blasé expression on her face might be easily dismissed as the look of a daydreamer's; she is, however, actually deep in thought.

She misses him. Terribly so. More than ever. More than she did in those weeks that she had spent with him in Orion, when she had nursed him back to health. They had never been more than thirty feet apart then, but she had felt like he'd been thousands of miles away.

She had stood by him as more than just a nurse that had sworn to serve the sick and the weak. She had been fully aware that she was taking care of him out of love. She fed him, dressed his wounds, and assisted him despite his size and massive weight, until he had been able to move about on his own. During the first week, Barry had helped with Oliver's bathing and other hygiene concerns, and when Barry was unavailable for some reason, Dante or Francisco had been there to lend a hand.

When Oliver had begun to take longer walks outside the nipa hut, Felicity's heart ached so bad each time. She had known from experience (as well as from Barry's prognosis of his condition) that he might never be able to do so again without a slight limp, as he favored his injured right hip, especially if he did not get some systematic, regimented form of physical therapy to avoid muscular atrophy. Somehow Oliver had understood this without her or Barry telling him anything and, therefore, had refused to use a cane or any improvised form of support, saying in laconic ways that walking on his own would help his muscles adapt and eventually relearn their old habits so that he could walk straight and effortlessly again. She had truly hoped so. She had always thought that he was even more beautiful to behold when he ran.

One time while they had walked together coming back from spending a literally quiet afternoon by the creek, Felicity had wondered if they would ever be able to walk down the aisle someday. She recalled thinking that she really didn't mind – and certainly would not be ashamed – if he were to walk down the aisle with her with a limp, as long as they could finally share a life as husband and wife when this miserable war is over. That day, she had determined to become both his strength and his crutch, so she encouraged him daily by her presence and her uplifting words, faithfully and dutifully minding his needs until he had recovered physically and had become able to take care of himself.

Felicity listens to the pitter-patter of raindrops on the metallic roof above her, and wonders how the man she loves is doing now. She wonders if he had already regained his usual strength, and if his gait has become closer to normal. She wonders if the Ramons are still able to keep him hidden from Japanese patrols in the secluded hut between their home and the creek because she hasn't heard from them in about two weeks. Dante usually delivers secret messages through Mr. Yara once a week. Most of all, she wonders if Oliver has changed his mind about the war. About John Diggle. About them. Oliver hasn't brought up any of those in the brief notes addressed to her, which Dante clandestinely hand-carries to Mr. Yara's store once a week when he comes to buy supplies, or pretend to buy supplies.

She also wonders when the downpour will stop.

It started to rain sometime after lunch – just a drizzle, really. Towards the late afternoon, the light showers had become torrential, something that she had seen in the tropics for the first time, having arrived during the colder season six months ago and then having experienced only the hot and humid weather in the dry season. The rains have been coming intermittently in the last couple of weeks. The locals are saying that the wet season has come earlier than usual this year; the old folks feel as if heaven and nature are empathizing with the sorrows of a suffering people. Mang Tasyo (as townsfolk fondly called Mr. Yara) explained over supper earlier in his stone house that Filipinos are supposed to be commemorating their independence from Spain more than forty years ago today, but no one really had the heart or the will to do anything to celebrate it. Not under the dismal circumstances brought about by the Japanese occupation.

It has been five weeks since the Fall of Corregidor, where the heroic Americans and Filipinos took their final stand against the invading Japanese forces. On May the 6th, more than a month ago, Gen. Jonathan Wainwright had surrendered the battered and drained remnants of the USAFFE troops on the island to Gen. Homma, and the very next day, all organized American resistance against the Japanese in the Philippines officially ceased.

Everyone in the Ramon house had wept that day as they listened to the news broadcast about the unconditional surrender through a battery-operated transistor radio. Dante, Kiko, and Aling Elena had wept, not just for their country, but also for the loved one they had lost. Aling Elena had revealed to them for the first time that day that she had lost her husband, a soldier in the Philippine Army, early in January when the Japanese troops invaded Manila, which was why she and her sons had been very sympathetic to their American allies and had been willing to help an injured American marine in whatever way they can. Felicity's regard for this brave and kind family had increased when she realized that they had been making sacrifices for strangers like them at a time when they were still supposed to have been grieving over the loss of a beloved family member.

Barry and Felicity had wept for their country too, as well as for their male and female compatriots that had given their lives in defense of a political ally and an archipelago that was significant to the U.S. for its strategic location in the Pacific. They had also wept for their other comrades that had become prisoners of war, especially their good friends, who are no doubt facing a gruesome struggle for survival in the camps, far from the comfort of home – the possibility for immanent liberation so bleak. After crying once more at the passing of their friend Tommy Merlyn, Felicity had immediately thought of John Diggle again. The wheels of her exceptional mind had turned but had come up short-handed in terms of devising a logical, workable plan for search and rescue, especially when there was no one she trusts with her life was available to help at the moment.

Barry, on the other hand, had thought of his girlfriend Iris West, a news correspondent with the British Broadcasting Company who had been sent to Manila in December at just about the same time that he and his Red Cross team had arrived. Iris had been sent by the London headquarters of the BBC to cover the Japanese attack and invasion of the Philippines. He'd been wondering about what had happened to her ever since the two of them had lost contact when he and his medical team were transferred to Bataan. He hadn't wanted to worry too much, for he was well aware that press people were entitled to certain freedoms, no matter how limited, in the midst of armed conflict. But after hearing the local folks' horrendous stories of the Death March that revealed how cruel and unjust some of the Japanese can be – and seeing for himself what Oliver had suffered – Barry had begun to feel anxious about her safety, more so because she was a woman. Right then and there, Barry had decided to leave the very next day and somehow find his way back to Manila to find Iris.

At first, Felicity had been very much against the idea. She had tried to persuade Barry to stay and, together with whoever they could find from their team of Red Cross workers and volunteers, regroup in Orani in order to help the wounded and the sick, regardless of the color of their skin. She had reminded her friend of their oath as medical professionals. He had respected and admired her unwavering conviction to serve despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Barry had not doubted her noble and single-minded passion, seeing that she herself was willing to put her relationship with Oliver Queen on hold indefinitely in the face of adversity for the greater good.

But it was Iris. Barry could not stand not knowing what had become of her. (Other than the commitment to save lives under the charter of the ANRC, being as close to Iris as he possibly can had been a reason why he had volunteered to go with the first batch of teams bound for the Philippines last December.) Barry had promised Felicity that as soon as he finds Iris and is sure that she was safe, or obtains reliable information about her whereabouts and well-being, he would come back to join the Red Cross team in Bataan in resuming their life-saving efforts.

Felicity had bargained with him to reconsider until the next day when he was about to leave for Orani with Dante on foot. It was only when Barry promised her that he will also do his best to acquire as much information as he can about the prison camps in Central Luzon where the American POWs were sent – for the sake of John Diggle – that she had finally let him go.

****************************

Oliver had also wept that day.

Upon hearing the news broadcast of the surrender of U.S. and Filipino troops, his tears had fallen just like theirs had. But he had left the room and grieved alone. He had not uttered a single word about what had happened or how he had felt about it. He had been like that ever since he and Felicity had been reunited, much to her dismay and disappointment. He would speak only when spoken to, and his responses were brief every time. He had been recuperating well physically under the expert care of Barry and Felicity and the help of the Ramons, but his mental and emotional recovery had been lagging behind. Medicines and herbal remedies had aided the healing of his wounds, but not the healing of his broken heart and mind. He had been damaged in more ways than one, and Felicity's heart broke over and over again as she watched him wither away in despair and emotional isolation day after day.

The day after Barry left, Felicity had once again broached the subject of them trying to find John, and of them not just surviving the war but contributing to the liberation of the Philippines and the American POWs in some small but significant way. It had not gone well. With just a few cold words spoken as if he didn't care at all, Oliver had shut her down faster than the Japanese had overrun the USAFFE in Bataan.

That was when Felicity had decided that it was time for her to let him be and to move on. She wanted so much to be there for him, to help him through his inner turmoil, but he chose day after day to shut her out and suffer alone. How could she reach out to him if he wouldn't let her? She loved him too much to watch him destroy himself this way. So, she made what was perhaps the most difficult decision she'd ever made thus far – she had decided to focus on her calling and rejoin the Red Cross workers and volunteers in Orani, if there were still any of them left.

Sad and frustrated at his closed-off response, she packed her things and endorsed his care to the Ramon family, who promised to do their utmost for him and to send word to her regularly through Mr. Yara about his welfare. The Ramons assured her that they will do their best to conceal, not just his whereabouts, but also his identity.

They had agreed that if it ever came to Oliver being discovered by anyone else – Filipino or Japanese – they would identify him as Robert King, an American journalist that had been wounded in the field and had lost his identification papers as he was covering the Battle of Bataan. Felicity had reasoned, based on her previous talks with Barry about Iris, that assuming the identity of a journalist was Oliver's best chance to survive the dire consequences of being discovered, because he would automatically be thrown to the prison camps if the enemy discovered that he was really a marine, or worse, if they find out that he had escaped the Death March.

The loud barking of a street dog startles Felicity and interrupts her musing. She suddenly realizes that none of her roommates had arrived yet, understandably so, perhaps because of the rain, which, she also notices, had already stopped.

Felicity leads the small group of nurses and volunteers because Marge had agreed to assume the position only in name. When they had found each other a day after she arrived in Orani and had agreed to resume their work as Red Cross personnel, the brave brunette from St. Louis, Missouri had wisely pointed out that even though she was Felicity's senior in the organization by virtue of her age and her length of years of service in the ANRC, Felicity is the better choice to lead their team. Marge argued that if ever the ANRC now stationed in Manila would need reinforcements and recall workers or volunteers from the nearby provinces, she would be among the first ones to respond, leaving Felicity with the two Filipina volunteers, Aurora and Gloria, both single young women who had had medical training in Manila before the war broke out. Marge had said that Felicity might as well learn the ropes of leading their small medical team in Bataan.

Felicity, Marge, Aurora, and Gloria have been helping people of Orani with healthcare and sanitation concerns. As soon as the nearby towns and villages had learned that their small clinic had become operational, more patients with all sorts of illnesses have been flocking into their clinic every day. In exchange for and appreciation of their service, people bring them food, clothing, and other necessities. Mr. Yara has been generous enough to supply them with some basic medicines and first aid supplies whenever he can, but when they had sent word to Barry in Manila that they had successfully regrouped and started a clinic, the ANRC there had started sending whatever medicines and medical supplies they could spare, no matter how meager. The Japanese have clamped down on deliveries of medicines and supplies, giving priority to the agencies they've begun to set up for their own healthcare and other government concerns. Government and non-government agencies whose bureaucracy have stooped so low as to collaborate with the Japanese are at the top of the priority list.

While villagers come to their clinic in broad daylight, injured or ill Filipino freedom fighters, who are part of the young, fledgling guerilla movement have sneaked into their modest facility every now and then – one or sometimes two at a time, mostly in the cover of darkness, under the noses of patrolling Japanese military police.

This had started one night when Felicity and Marge had treated the bullet wound of a freedom fighter who had refused to give them his name. The man had secretly shared with them that the Filipino resistance had started to organize themselves in Central and Southern Luzon, after which the man had pleaded with them to be a part of the underground movement by providing medical assistance to their wounded in spite of the risk that this posed to their safety and their lives. Marge and Felicity had immediately consented, even if Aurora and Gloria had been hesitant at the beginning because of fear for their families. The man returned a week later to let them know that their leader, who went by the moniker "Ka Rene," had given the order to place their team under the protection of the guerillas in exchange for regular but secret medical assistance. All four women pledged their support to the cause of the guerilla movement until the American forces returned to fulfill their promise to liberate the Philippines from the Japanese.

A few Japanese soldiers and officers have also come for medical attention, and they have treated their "enemies" civilly despite the rudeness of many of them. Felicity and her team have not discriminated anyone. In the past month, they have treated civilian and non-civilian patients of any race or social rank, and regardless of their political or military affiliation. For this, as well as their kindness and fortitude in the midst of difficult times, the people of Orani and the nearby villages in Bataan have started referring to them as the "Fair and Fearless Four."

Nevertheless, despite the busyness of her daily duties, Felicity never fails to think about Oliver. How is he? Is he thinking about her, too? Will they still end up together after all this, assuming "all of this" will ever end? Will they live to see their dreams become reality, or will they both die forgotten at some point in this wretched saga of violence and oppression.

Anxious thoughts plague her every so often, most of the time in the wee hours of the night as she lies on her bunk bed, with Marge snoring incessantly beneath her. She wonders how long the Ramon family can protect the love of her life from Japanese patrols that daily sweep the towns and villages in search of their enemies, of suspected guerilla organizers and supporters, and of course, booty.

*************************

July 4, 1942  
Orion, Bataan

If only Felicity knows how much Oliver has been thinking about her too, she would cease from wondering if he ever does.

Since Felicity left for Orani, Oliver has been getting stronger and stronger each day. But he misses her just as much, maybe more than she missed him. More than ever. More than he did during the weeks they had spent together when she had helped him convalesce from his injuries and he had isolated his inner self from her attempts at connecting with him.

She had taken good care of him, and he had appreciated every moment, every gesture. In fact, he had savored every moment that she had taken care of him and kept him company, even though he had been silent most of the time. The thing is, he had also felt like he hadn't deserved any of it. He had felt like she was so near and yet so far at the same time. He had cherished her every touch while it lasted, only to feel guilty soon after every loss of contact, because he had somehow convinced himself that he deserved only misery as punishment for all the lives he had taken, supposedly at the call of duty. It had been a completely torturous feeling that he had tried so hard to ignore, and he had wished that she hadn't noticed it each time they had been together.

But, of course, it was Felicity. She most certainly had sensed his self-loathing and self-deprecation, even if she did not fully understand why. But even when she had surmised the perennial feelings of gloom that he harbored within, she had only kept it to herself, avoiding any argument that would ensue if she pressed him about it. She was afraid he would retreat further into himself if that happened. She had somehow managed to bear the heavy burden in her bleeding heart without saying a word or shedding a tear in his company.

Now that she is gone (again), Oliver feels conflicted. He vacillates daily between sorely missing her and feeling sincerely happy for her now that she is back to fulfilling her life's mission in the midst of troubled times. If only he could move on like she has, he wonders every now and then. If only they could move forward in their relationship just as history is agonizingly surging forward without pausing to consider the afflictions of those it ravages along the way.

He is lonely and despondent and overcome with both guilt and regret. Guilt – for the killings he has been responsible for, which he counts to be just as monstrous and treacherous as the brutal acts of the Japanese towards the victims of the Death March. Regret – for turning his back like a coward on her pleas for help to search for their friend, for selfishly turning his back on the challenge of making a difference in the war to honor the fallen, and perhaps his worst regret of all, which is foolishly turning his back on the second chance he'd been given to pick up the pieces of his broken relationship with Felicity.

It has been raining hard since early morning. The weather report via radio last night had warned the people in the provinces of Western Luzon to stay indoors because of Typhoon Juaning, which had made landfall yesterday in Eastern Luzon and is making its way across the country westward into the South China Sea. By late afternoon, the heavy rainfall had taken its toll on the native hut that Oliver has learned to call his home. Rain water has been leaking in through multiple spots on the nipa roof all day long. Aling Elena had sent Francisco to fetch Oliver just before supper so that he could spend the night dry and warm in their home until the storm is over. At least, in the small living room of the family's wooden home, there is only one leak in the ceiling in the corner of the room, away from the shabby, cushion-less rattan recliner, which is to be his temporary bed.

Since the rainy season began towards the end of May, it has just been one typhoon after another. Typhoon Juaning has been the third and strongest one yet. The Ramons have told him that storm season lasts until about October and rarely, even up to November, so Oliver figures that they are looking forward to more wet days ahead. On this day, he cannot help but think that heaven and nature are empathizing with the sorrows and sufferings of the fallen Americans in this country, if the howling winds outside and the ominous, heavy downpour are any indication. This isn't exactly how he and his countrymen are used to celebrating the 4th of July back in the States where it is summer time.

Oliver lies on the rattan recliner, his bent left arm cradling his head, as the monotonous dripping of water into the metal bucket attempts to lull him to sleep. To no avail. Because again he is thinking about her, his Felicity, as he has done most days and nights since she left for Orani. Yet, from the time the rainy season began, he has thought about her even more frequently, especially on days like this one, because he recalls how much she hated rainy days. Truth be told, he had learned to dislike them too, because it had rained both times she had turned down his proposals for marriage.

As he muses, his free hand wanders to his chest and neck. He tinkers with John Diggle's dog tag, and soon, his fingers find their way to Felicity's ring. (Francisco had cleaned it thoroughly and given it back to him after the young man found it in the basin together with Oliver's soiled clothes and underwear, which his mother had made him wash the night Felicity and Barry had arrived.) Oliver rolls the precious metal band between his thumb and forefinger as memories resurface from the past. Memories that he had tucked away in the deep, hidden corners of his mind.

To be continued in the next chapter...

****************************  
Below is the previous text for this chapter "Two Apologies, One Question," to which some of you responded about two weeks ago. I've decided to keep it here to avoid confusion of readers who like to read through previous comments of readers. I thought this would clarify any confusion that would arise from reading the first 39 comments for this chapter.

First of all, I am so sorry that this is not an update.  
Second, I'm so sorry that I haven't been able to post the next chapter to this story. Life has been complicated. Too much stuff at work, relative came for a visit from abroad and stayed three weeks with us, and 5x14 & 5x15 were just difficult to watch and almost wiped out any drive to keep writing. I barely finished "The Arrow's Bride," but finally did. (Sigh) When I get my head above the waters in the next couple of weeks (especially after 5x16 & 5x17), I should be able to squeeze some time to pick up where I left off.  
But... I know it's been a month since I last updated this historical fic, so I was wondering if it's still worth continuing and completing, because if you're like me, I kind of lose interest in a story if it's taken too long to get an update after reading the last chapter and I'd have to back track and read from the past chapters. So I thought I'd ask you guys. Would you still be interested in reading to the end? Please let me know by leaving a comment below. Thanks for understanding! I would love to hear from you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part will be posted as a separate chapter in a while. Most of it covers two flashbacks that will shed light on the current state of Oliver and Felicity's relationship, and the final section moves the plot along. If it's not much of a bother, drop a line or two to let me know how this chapter was for you. If you are interested in reading more historical stuff to spice up this story, then read on.
> 
> Margaret Utinsky was a real person. She was born Peggy Doolin in St. Louis, Missouri in 1900 and worked as a volunteer nurse with the Red Cross in Manila when the Japanese invaded it in January 1942. Her husband, whom she married in 1934, worked as an engineer for the U.S. Army in Bataan. Instead of boarding the Washington along with the rest of the Army wives, she watched the ship leave from the pier, and then hid in her apartment for 10 weeks instead of waiting to be processed for placement to the internment camps with other American detainees. She survived with the help of American and Filipino friends and contacts. When Corregidor fell, she escaped to Bataan to try and find her husband, creating a new identity for herself as a Lithuanian volunteer nurse. She never found him and later learned that he had died and was buried in the prison camp in Cabanatuan. Margaret helped provide medical assistance to a survivor of the Death March, to those who had been sick with malaria and dysentery, and to those who were wounded in various places in Central Luzon. She was eventually able to work with the Red Cross again under her new identity, and she also assisted in some of the prison camps. She also became involved as a spy for the underground guerilla movement that gave the Japanese a hard time until the American troops liberated the islands in 1945. More than once "Miss U" (as she was called by the guerillas and their supporters) was arrested, jailed, and interrogated. According to her autobiography titled "Miss U," she was even tortured one time and had her jaw broken. By some miracle, Margaret survived the war. When the Americans returned to liberate the Philippines, she was even able to hand over some vital information to help them. Instead of going home to the States, she stayed and worked with counter intelligence in tracking down those who had collaborated with the Japanese until they were apprehended and tried for their crimes. She was able to return home to the U.S. and was later awarded the Medal of Freedom in 1946. She died in 1970 in California. Her story is portrayed in the movie THE GREAT RAID by actress Connie Nielsen. Her life's story is so amazing I had to include her as a separate minor character in this fic even if Felicity's character is already a tribute to her courage and contribution to the liberation of my country from Japanese occupation.
> 
> The American National Red Cross was very much active in different parts of the world during WWII, including the Philippines. In fact, their involvement preceded the United States' own participation in the war, beginning when armed conflict started in Europe in 1939. After the attack on Pearl Harbor in December of 1941, the ANRC quickly mobilized its volunteer and staff force to fulfill its 1905 congressional mandate to aid the sick and the wounded of armies in the time of war. At the peak of Red Cross war service in 1945, there were 7.5 million volunteers and 39,000 paid staff providing service to the military. Throughout the war, they had served 16 million military personnel, including 1 million combat casualties. The figures are daunting, and as I read, my esteem for those brave men and women who cared for the wounded and the weak sky-rocketed. I tried my best to make sure that I do justice to them by making the characters of Felicity and her Red Cross team worthy of the honor those volunteers in real life so deserve.
> 
> The character of Rene Ramirez is briefly introduced here as a Filipino. He will play a crucial role in later chapters.
> 
> The two Filipina Red Cross volunteers are fictional characters, but I decided to name them after two significant women in our history because of their contribution to the Philippine Red Cross, which received its charter after WWII. Mrs. Aurora Aragon Quezon, wife of Former President Manuel L. Quezon (who was our president when WWII broke out) was the first chairman of the PRC in 1947. Former President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo signed the Philippine Red Cross Act in 2009.
> 
> Climate in the Philippine islands is typically tropical. The dry summer season is usually from March to early May. The rainy season is from June to October. The weather from November to February is the best, as the evenings are conveniently cool and the sunshine is not scorching hot throughout the day. Storms are called typhoons, not hurricanes. During the rainy season, monsoon winds also bring heavy rainfall even if there are no low pressure areas or typhoons.


	7. Rainy Days (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's why Felicity and Oliver didn't really appreciate rainy days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the continuation to Chapter 6... as promised. The chapter begins with two lengthy flashbacks that shed light on the current state of Oliver and Felicity's relationship. Angst alert! If you tear up easily, you might want to have tissue on hand. The final section moves the plot forward. Happy reading!

San Diego, California  
September 1940

Oliver watched his girl from afar, taking her in – her beauty, charm, and grace that masked the strength that he had always known resided in her heart. For him, Felicity was the most beautiful woman alive – inside and out.

During his third tour of duty in China with the 4th Marines, Oliver had missed being surrounded by the joy and cheerfulness of her person. He had missed basking in the warmth and brightness of her light, so much more than he ever did in the first two years he had been away. In China, there had only been darkness and death.

All week long that he had spent time with her, trying so hard to pick up from where they had left off, his admiration of her many endearing qualities had only reminded him of how marred he had become. Of how much he hated who he had become. Of how much he was ashamed of some of the things he had done. He had confided with the chaplain to some degree about his inward struggle, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her. He had returned to his home country seeking absolution or redemption, whichever his damaged soul found first. He was hoping that he would find either one in their love – the only thing in his life that he still believed hadn't been tainted by his sins.

He had asked Felicity to be his date to the send-off banquet hosted by their Commander three days before the 4th Marine Regiment was sent back to China to try to contain the strife between the Chinese and the Japanese one last time. He had gone to his father's jewelers the very next day he had arrived in Starling City, and he had found the perfect ring for her. He had been able to save enough money in the last three years he'd been serving in China to purchase her ring, and when he did, he had the jeweler engrave their names on the inside of the band. He had spoken to Felicity's parents about it the other day when she had been on duty at the hospital, telling them of his plan to propose to her before the evening ended.

Dinner had been sumptuous and satisfying. They had danced to their hearts' content, and when Felicity had begged him to let her heart and her feet rest, Oliver thought that it was the perfect time to take her outside and pop the question under the stars in the moonlight. The brass band was on its last set, so he had excused himself, offering to get their drinks from the bar. It was the perfect alibi to get away and prepare himself for the task before he loses his nerve.

Oliver gazed upon the love of his life, seated alone at their table. She was watching the other couples that remained on the dance floor, swaying to Moonlight Serenade, one of the latest Glen Miller hits that he was just beginning to enjoy. The men were dressed in their Marine Corps uniforms complete with the medals and decorations that adorned their military attire, and the women were wearing their best evening gowns to celebrate with their men before they were shipped back to China.

He prayed earnestly that she would say yes, just as her parents knew she would, just as he knew in his heart that she would. For if she does, he would take her to City Hall the very next day and marry her before he boards the navy ship. Two days was all they could have, but he would do his best to make every minute count. He wasn't going back to the thick of battle without wearing a wedding band on his finger.

Oliver made his way back to their table, a flute of champagne each in his hand, as he rehearsed mentally what he was going to say. He succeeded in inviting her to step outside with him to get breaths of fresh air. He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders to protect her semi-bare back from the mild, cool draft of evening sea breeze. He walked her to the nearby white gazebo that was embellished with tiny twinkling lights all around, and there, they sipped champagne in companionable silence until there were none left.

"Okay, why did you really bring me out here, Oliver?" Felicity asked, suddenly breaking the silence and catching him off-guard.

His eyebrows rose as his mouth gaped open, but he was unable to utter a word.

"Come on," she prompted him further. "It's been more than a year since we last spent this much time together. But I know you… deep down. At least, I think I still do. And I know when you're about to tell me something important. Your fingers…"

Oliver looked down, following her gaze. He realized that his fingers were twitching. His thumb and forefinger were rubbing against each other again like they always do when he's tense or nervous about something. She knew very well that it was his tell.

Felicity stepped closer to him and took his champagne flute from his other hand. As she moved to set their flutes down on a table where an ornate floral arrangement stood at the center of the gazebo, she continued to speak. "What is it? Are they sending you on another dangerous covert mission? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I can handle it. After all, this is not the first time," she assured him.

"No. It's not that," Oliver replied. He took her hands and drew her away from the table. "I wanted to ask you something." He smiled sheepishly.

"Then ask," she said, smiling back at him enthusiastically.

"Remember… back in the ranch that spring in '37… near grandfather's bridge?" he asked.

She nodded. She remembered it very well, and her lips quivered at the thought of her enveloped in his arms under the tree by the stream.

"You promised that you'd wait for me. You said that all I had to do was tell you when I'm ready," he continued bravely. "Well, I am. We've been apart far too long, too many times. I can't do that anymore. This time I might be gone longer than I've ever been. I can't leave again without knowing that we belong to each other… permanently."

Oliver released both her hands and took a step back. He pulled out a dark green velvet box from his pocket, opened it, and held out his hand as he got down on one knee. Felicity gasped in astonishment. One of her hands instinctively moved up to her chest as she bit down on her lower lip.

"Felicity Megan Smoak, you are my always. I can't live another day without your light in my life. I love you with all of my heart and soul, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you as my wife. Will you marry this humble marine?" Hope welled up within him as he stared at the face of the woman he loved, waiting intently for her response.

The expression of surprise on Felicity's face was soon replaced by a certain sadness, as Oliver held his breath in anticipation. That was when he knew that something was awfully wrong, and his heart sank.

"I… Oliver…"

Those were not the words he was expecting to hear her say.

Oliver stood up, took both her trembling hands in his once again, and asked, "What's wrong? Don't you feel the same way? You love me, don't you?"

Those questions had easy answers. Those were not the ones she languished over.

Felicity closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She took a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes again, she looked him straight in the eye and replied, "Oliver, I do. I do love you. So much. You know that. And I do want to spend the rest of my life with you…"

"But…" Oliver interjected softly, disappointment evident in his voice.

"But I can't marry you. Not yet. Especially not now. In three days, you're going to leave. You're going back to China to fight. They might even ship you straight to the Philippines. What are we going to do? Say our vows before a judge tomorrow, go off on an overnight honeymoon, and then kiss each other goodbye for the nth time in MCB without knowing when we're going to see each other again? What if you don't come back alive?" She rambled on like an out-of-control freight train without breaks. "And I know this is a long shot, but what if I get pregnant like my mother and our child grows up not ever knowing his or her father and-"

"Hey, hey, Felicity, calm down," he said, trying to comfort her. He ran his palms up and down her arms. "None of that's going to happen. I'm not going to die out there. You're not going to be a young marine's widow. Not if I can help it."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked adamantly and incredulously. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep! I can't be Mrs. Oliver Queen for just three days. I won't! I don't think I can live through each day not knowing if you're ever coming back to me in your handsome uniform or in a lousy wooden box!"

"See, you can't know that!" he countered.

"Oliver, please… Now is not a good time," she pleaded.

"Why not? I think now is just as good a time as any," he argued just as adamantly, turning away and walking past her.

She turned around to face him, but he did not turn to look at her.

"I can't marry you now, Oliver."

"Yes, you can! What difference does it make if we're married now or after this stupid war? And what if it takes five years, ten, or maybe twenty? We love each other. That's all that matters!"

"No, it's not! How foolish and selfish it would be to think that life is all about love and romance! The world is not just about us!" she yelled in anger and frustration.

It was too early in autumn, but right at that moment, it began to rain.

"Look around us, Oliver. We are not living in a fairy tale where we can have our happily ever after while the rest of humanity suffers. We live in a crazy world… where despots and dictators oppress those that they deem inferior and think that they can dominate everyone else and create a new world order based on tyranny and prejudice. Europe is falling to pieces ever since France was taken. Italy has allied itself with Nazi Germany. You, of all people, should know that Japan is poised to wreak havoc in Asia in support of that alliance. And still our nation refuses to go to war! It's unbelievable! It's just a matter of time, if you ask me."

Oliver held his tongue and let her pour out everything that was in her heart, because he couldn't, for the life of him, understand why she was rejecting his marriage proposal when he was so sure their love for each other was larger than life.

"Oliver, please understand. You can't go back to the frontlines of battle worrying about a wife back home. You can't be a good marine if you lose focus. And I… I can't just sit at home, knit sweaters, make meatloaf and eat it by myself, and just pray morning, noon, and night for the safety of my husband while our able-bodied men lay down their lives to secure our safety thousands of miles away. I have to do something, and I can't do that if I'm tied down to home-making while I am still strong enough to actually make a difference!"

At that point, Oliver turned around and looked her straight in the eyes with an intensity borne out of profound sadness and disappointment at the rejection he faced. "So… this is not really about me leaving, isn't it? It's about you. You're the one who's not ready."

Felicity realized the implications of what she had just expressed in so many words. She bowed her head as a tear leaked near the corner of her eye. She then looked up at him and said, "I'm not ready. You're not ready. We're not ready. I'm so sorry, Oliver, but I can't do this yet."

She walked slowly towards him and reached for his face. She cupped his cheek with her soft hand, and he let her.

"But I love you, Felicity," he whispered sadly, as he let her hand caress his face. "I don't think I can go on this way without you. I need you. If only you knew what I'm going back to…"

"I know, I know," she whispered back, restraining a sob as more tears fell from her eyes. She didn't have to know the details. She just understood. "And I love you, too, Oliver."

She then pleaded, this time with a gentle yet firm voice, "But we can't hurry this. Marriage ought to be with the right person, at the right time, and for the right reasons. I'm positive that you are the right person for me, but this is just not the right time. And I'm not so sure that you are asking me for the right reasons as well."

Oliver's eyes brimmed with tears. His head hung low, and his shoulders sagged in disappointment. He knew she was right. He just couldn't say it. He knew there were a lot of things that needed to be made right in his life. He needed to find himself again. He needed to find peace in the midst of chaos and confusion. He would only bring his darkness into her life if he pressured her to marry him now, and she did not deserve to be sucked into the misery that engulfed him. It wasn't fair to her, and it would surely be detrimental to their relationship. He knew that their love for each other was strong enough to bring healing to his guilt-stricken soul, but he realized that he shouldn't expect her, or marriage for that matter, to fix what was broken inside him; he needed to face his demons on his own before he could be ready to enter a lifetime of commitment and trust. He realized that he couldn't hide from his fears and self-hate behind a marriage that might suffer from those very same issues.

As a teardrop escaped his eye, Felicity spoke again. "I think we both know that you and I still have important things to do. For the greater good. We've talked about this many times, years ago, way back when we were just dating. You're a mighty fine marine, Oliver, and our country should be proud to have you fighting to defend it and its allies overseas. I have a job to do, too. Let me pursue that calling while you're away, while I still can devote my time and effort to it whole-heartedly. This is a big part of why we fell in love with each other, remember? From the very start, we saw in each other the passion to serve others despite the odds against us. Whatever it is that you are afraid to go back to in China, know that you will always be beautiful in my eyes."

That was when his tears fell. He nodded, and then he leaned into her palm and kissed it. "Felicity Smoak, you are remarkable."

"Thank you for remarking on it," she replied with a sigh.

Oliver held out his hand and showed her the diamond ring again. The wedding band sat elegantly on a felt-covered cushion, the sparkly stone shimmering slightly in the moonlight despite the rain. "So, what am I going to do with this now?" he asked.

"Hold on to it for me," she answered. She closed the velvet box and then folded his fingers to grasp it. "I intend to wear it someday soon, First Lieutenant Oliver Queen. String it onto the chain around your neck together with your dog tags. While you're away, let it remind you that you have a special woman back home expecting you to come back in one piece, to marry her, and to make little baby marines with her for as long as your knees can handle it."

She giggled. He laughed. They agreed to wait for a better time.

Three days later, he left. She wept. They continued to serve their country and pursued their ideals.

****************************

December 24, 1941  
Manila, Philippines

The next time they saw each other face to face was about fifteen months later in her apartment a few blocks away from Sternberg Hospital.

"Merry Christmas, beautiful," Oliver greeted from the open doorway.

Felicity was busy signing the hand-made Christmas cards she crafted for her Red Cross friends and co-workers at the hospital. (She and her mother were Jewish and had only learned to celebrate Christmas when they became part of the Lance family. She had thought that, in the midst of the chaos and the dread of the advancing enemy troops and the daily threat from Japanese fighter planes that strafed and bombed the capital city, spreading the holiday cheer would do everybody some good.) She did not hear him come up the stairs or knock on the doorpost. She was much too absorbed with what she was doing on this rare off-duty moment since she and her team had arrived almost a week ago. When she turned to look at who had greeted her so boldly, she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Oliver!" she cried with wide-eyed joy and excitement.

She put down the Christmas card she was signing and ran into her lover's waiting arms. They hugged and kissed… and then kissed some more. He wiped the happy tears that streaked her cheeks and then kissed her forehead affectionately.

He leaned into her, keeping his arms around her waist, and whispered near her ear, "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too. I can't believe you're here!" she exclaimed ecstatically. "How did you find me? I've been trying to get in touch with you since I arrived last week, but Marine Corps headquarters said the 4th Marines had been transferred to the base in Olongapo to merge with a couple of battalions there. I tried to get a weekend pass approved by the top bosses at ANRC office so that I could go up there to see you, to surprise you. But they said that aside from the fact that that kind of trip was too risky and certifiably dangerous for a woman like me," she rolled her eyes in disgust as she rambled on, "I also haven't been here long enough for that kind of privilege, especially since it's been all-hands-on-deck busy at the hospital since we arrived, seeing that the bombings are pretty much a daily occurrence now, so I didn't know if I could-"

Oliver interrupted her by capturing her lips in a loving kiss once again. When he pulled away for air, he remarked, "I see some things never change." He smirked, teasing her for her babbling, which earned him a slap on the chest.

"And how did you get here?" Felicity asked, curious as to how he had managed to leave the base in Olongapo, which was about a three-hour drive away from Manila, when the military was on high alert.

"Well, after that last telegram from you, in which you so stubbornly insisted on volunteering to join the Red Cross team that was being sent here – and against my most turbulent objections, might I add – I called in a favor with a guy at ANRC that owed me. I asked him to send word to me as soon as Dr. Barry Allen's team arrived. When I got the wire, I asked my superiors if there was anything I could do for them here, so I could see you. Fortunately, they needed someone to rendezvous with the 1st Special Defense Battalion from Cavite and facilitate their transfer to Olongapo, so… here I am. Unfortunately, we are leaving Manila in two hours."

"Oh, why so soon? You just got here!" Felicity complained. She pulled him by the arm into her apartment and made him sit with her on the bed, which was still the only piece of furniture she had aside from the table and stool where she ate her meals on the rare occasions she was home.

They hadn't even talked for five minutes when Oliver, obviously anxious to tell her something important, caught her attention by holding on to her shoulders.

"Felicity, as I told you a while ago, we don't have much time. There's something very important that I have to ask of you, and this time, you have to say yes," he told her.

Her eyes narrowed and her forehead creased. "What is it? Is it something bad?" she asked, clearly anxious.

"No, no. Nothing like that," he answered. "I… I…" He shook his head because he had no idea how to break it to her without upsetting her once more.

But he had to tell her. He just had to. He was privy to the fact that Manila was a lost cause. He had to do something to get her out of there, or she would most likely end up in one of the internment camps for the duration of the war. He was never going to let that happen.

Oliver unbuttoned his uniform and pulled out his dog tag from underneath his shirt, showing her the diamond ring that had been hanging from the chain around his neck for the last fourteen months.

"Felicity, marry me. Please? I know this is less than ideal, crazy even. I know you might say again that it's not the right time, but… we may never get another chance. We may not get out of this alive… either or both of us. An army chaplain is waiting downstairs. All we need is a witness."

Oliver didn't care that his girlfriend's eyes were wide with disbelief and shock. He went on to finish what he had set out to do.

"In just a few days, maybe less, the ground war will begin," he explained. The Japanese offensive is meeting USAFFE forces head-on, and from what I hear, our defenses won't be able to hold them at bay for long. Manila will soon be overrun with Japanese troops, and when that happens, you can't be here. I won't let you get trapped in the crossfire, and I won't let you be taken prisoner by the Japs. I can't protect you if you stay here. This is the only way I can try to keep you out of harm's way."

"This is not making any sense. I don't understand how marrying you will keep me safe," Felicity expressed, still overcome by a myriad of emotions. She did not know which was stronger – fear, anger, disbelief, shock, relief, or gratitude.

"Felicity, please say yes," Oliver begged with his eyes closed and his hands clutching hers in a firm grip. "Right now, the only way I know that I can keep you safe is if you marry me. The Washington is being prepped to leave Manila Harbor to go back Stateside in a few days. All military wives will be evacuated and taken on board to safety. If you marry me tonight, the chaplain can immediately arrange our marriage certificate in time for you to board the ship. I can't promise that I'll ever see you again, but at least I'll have peace that you are back home with your family. Safe."

"But…" She began to cry. "But I don't want to be safe. I want to be with you. Unsafe!" she replied with deep emotion and conviction. "I volunteered to join the Red Cross here as soon as my family confirmed that Quentin was among those that died in the attack on Pearl Harbor. I did it to honor my stepfather's memory and the memory of those that perished that day, but I also did it so that I could be as close to you as possible as the war broke out. I'm not going home, Oliver. If you're not leaving, I'm not leaving."

"Felicity, please be reasonable! Stop being so stubborn, and listen to me for once! I can't lose you this way. You can wait for me. Back home. I promise I won't do anything stupid in the name of heroism so that I can come home to you when the war is over. And even if… even if I don't, you can still have a chance to live a happy life ahead of you. You can remarry if you like, have kids, raise a family. I just… I want you to be happy."

"Oliver, as long as you're in my life, I am happy. I'd rather go through hell here with you than go running back to a heavenly home without you in it! So, if you want to marry me just so that you can send me back aboard that ship, I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to decline your proposal a second time."

"Felicity…"

"Oliver, I love you, with everything that's in me. But I don't get why we can't fight our way through the danger together, instead of running away from it. I won't run away! Isn't the whole point of marriage to get through the hard times because we are together, not in spite of it? Marriage is about inclusion, and this is the way I know that I am included in your life – to fight alongside you, even if it's just with a syringe or rolls of bandages. If you do intend for us to really be together for life, then we might as well start right here right now, shouldn't we?" She wasn't asking, she was stating her position with a gaze as strong as steel.

"It's not that simple…" he reasoned one last time.

"It is to me," she replied, disappointed at his response. "And now that you know full well where I stand, I have but one request. Please don't ask me again… unless you're sure you're asking at the right time, for the right reasons. I can't marry someone who won't let me into his life just because it isn't safe."

Felicity wiped away her tears and rose up from the bed. She put on her jacket, picked up her purse, and headed towards the door. "I'm going back to the hospital and report earlier for duty. They need all the help they can get. Lock the door as you leave. You know where to find me," she said without looking back.

Felicity walked away. She picked up the umbrella that stood near the door, because the drizzle that had begun to come down while they were arguing just turned into an unexpected rainstorm in December.

******************************

Oliver wakes the next morning when the mid-morning sunshine coming through the window of the Ramon home scorches the skin on his face. Apparently, the rain had stopped while he was sleeping, as the ground outside is perfectly dry. He realizes that Aling Elena and her sons had not bothered waking him for breakfast. He'd been used to Francisco greeting him most mornings in the hut with native coffee, pan de sal, and mantequilla.

He gets up and finds Aling Nena winnowing rice grains in the batalan using her bilao. He is about to greet her a pleasant morning when Francisco comes running frantically from the front door through the house and straight to the batalan, clutching his native hat against his chest.

"Nanay! Come, quick! It's Kuya Dante! The Japs have arrested him in Orani," the young man tells his mother in fragments as he tries to catch his breath.

"What?!" Aling Elena cried. "What happened, Kiko?"

Francisco replies in detail, "Kuya Dante and I left before sunrise to buy fertilizer in Orani like you asked us to. Afterwards, we passed by Mang Tasyo's store to see if Ms. Felicity had something for Mr. Oliver. Kuya told me to go inside and find Mang Tasyo, and then to secure the wagon and get ready to go. He said that he just needed to talk to someone in private before we go home. By the time I came out, Kuya was gone! People in the streets said that Japanese soldiers dragged him off to the plaza with other men. When I got to the plaza, the Japs stood around a group of men and, I think, two women, who were down on their knees. There was a Filipino woman standing with the Japanese. She had a bayong covering her head, with three holes just big enough for her eyes to see through and her nose to breathe. Whoever she pointed to, the Japs tied up and loaded in their jeeps. The last one she identified was Kuya Dante."

"How do you know that the person whose head was covered was a Filipino woman?" Oliver asks, joining the conversation.

"She wore a skirt, Mr. Oliver. She was short, and the color of her skin…" Francisco reasons. "I don't know why and where they took Kuya Dante, Nanay. We have to go back there and find him!"

"Yes, anak. Just let me get my things," Aling Elena says. Francisco runs back to the tricycle that Mang Tasyo lent him. The young man had to leave the wagon and the cow in Orani and rush back home to Orion to break the bad news to his mother as quickly as possible. If they don't hurry, they might not be able to clear things up and they may never get to see Dante again.

Oliver speaks, "I wish I could come with you and help, but-"

"It's okay, Mr. Oliver. We understand. You need to stay here, hidden. Go back to the hut and stay there until we get back. I don't want you to go missing, too," the older woman tells him.

Oliver nods.

"Be careful, Aling Elena. Ask around town before you approach the authorities, but be very discreet, as you never know whom to trust in times like these. Begin with people that you already know and somehow trust, like Mang Tasyo. Whatever the reason for Dante's arrest, there must be a reason why they haven't killed him on the spot. They must be after some information that they think he must have. And whatever you do, do not attract too much attention to yourselves in the presence of the Japanese. If they cannot get the information they want from Dante, they might suspect that you two know more than what you let on," he advises sternly.

"Yes, thank you. We will do that," Aling Elena responds gratefully.

Something strange is happening inside Oliver's mind and heart. He doesn't understand why the sudden news of Dante's arrest causes a shift in him. He realizes that he does care. And not just for this dear family that had taken him in. He also realizes that addressing such urgent and life-threatening situations come naturally to him. It must be the way he'd been trained in the Marine Corps, he thought. No. It must be more than that. His superiors had seen that quality in him way back in his infantry training days, and his trainers had only honed and polished those skills until he had become a powerful weapon in his hands.

As he stood in front of the woman that had opened her home and offered her family's hospitality to him, he realized that the very thing that frightened him about himself is something that can also be used for good. If only he can muster the courage to get out of his brooding shell and make a difference.

Like Felicity had.

Oliver is about to make one request, but he relents. He sees that the caring, motherly woman is anxious enough for her own family. He doesn't want to be selfish and burden her any further.

Aling Elena's intuitiveness takes over, however, as she senses that the thoughtful marine is holding back something that means a great deal to him. She knows what it is, though, and as she covers her head with her bandana to get ready to leave, she tells him, "We will make sure to pass by the Red Cross clinic, Mr. Oliver. I will personally see if Ms. Felicity is well. Is there anything you want me to tell her?"

Oliver's pensive mood is broken by her unexpected question. He has only seconds to think of a simple but meaningful message, something that Felicity can hold on to.

He heaves a sigh and turns towards Aling Elena who is already standing by the front door. "Kindly tell her… Tell her that I miss her, and that rainy days aren't so bad after all. She'll understand."

"Okay, then," the older woman replies. "I'll make sure to tell her, too, that you look awfully handsome when you're smiling like that, Mr. Oliver."

He is smiling. Genuinely. For the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you are - two chapters. I hope you liked them. There most likely won't be updates in the next two weeks because they will be the toughest two weeks at work as school closes where I'm from. Teaser for the next update: Our hero will pick up his bow and fill his quiver. ;-)
> 
> Glossary of Filipino terms:
> 
> pan de sal - Literally means, "bread of salt"; a kind of bread that is usually about the size and shape of an adult fist, covered in fine bread crumbs; usually eaten with butter or any kind of sandwich spread, and paired with coffee or hot chocolate
> 
> mantequilla - Butter or margarine
> 
> batalan - The equivalent of a dirty kitchen at the rear of most traditional Filipino houses where cooking, washing, and storing of supplies are usually done
> 
> bilao - A large, round, very shallow native container used to winnow rice by shaking and tossing the grain and letting "chaff" and other dirt fall to the ground
> 
> bayong - Native basket used for buying food in the market; it is shaped like today's large cardboard shopping bags but is made from natural materials like dried coconut leaves or synthetic straw
> 
> nanay - Mother
> 
> kuya - Term of endearment for an older brother
> 
> anak - One's own child
> 
> The 4th Marine Regiment fits perfectly into the story line of Oliver's character in this fic. In real life, they had seen action in China against the Japanese long before WWII broke out in Europe in 1939. They were sent to China as early as the 1920s to assist in the civil war that threatened to tear the people apart. By 1927, the 4th Marines had settled into routine garrison duty there, which earned them the nickname "China Marines." In the early 1930s, when Japanese forces in Manchuria began to seize Chinese territory, hostilities between the Chinese and the Japanese began; the 4th Marines was sent to prevent the fighting from crossing the International Zone. There was a brief period of peace that lasted only until 1937, when an incident at Marco Polo Bridge prompted Japan to send more troops into China. It is during those hostilities between China and Japan when the 4th Marines was tasked to intervene that I thought of putting Oliver into the picture as a marine with a special assignment for three consecutive years, being allowed by his superiors to come home for debriefs and visit his family. More will be told about this in future chapters.
> 
> By 1941, the U.S. had seen China as a cause lost to the Japanese. Orders were soon given to finally withdraw the 4th Marines and transfer them to the Philippines. They were evacuated from China aboard the President Madison in late November and aboard the President Harrison in early December. They arrived at just around the time Pearl Harbor was attacked. The 4th Marines absorbed the Marine Barracks Olongapo on December 22 and then added the Defense Battalion from Cavite province. Just before Bataan fell into Japanese hands on April 9, 1942, the 4th Marines was moved to Corregidor Island where they took their last stand before the surrender of the USAFFE troops on May 6. The regiment was utterly destroyed in that battle, and only a few marines survived. They were eventually dissolved. It was only in February of 1944 that the 4th Marines was re-established, by virtue of the amalgamation of four Marine Raiders battalions, bearing the name and honors of the original regiment that was lost in the Philippines in 1942. The 4th Marines saw action again during the Vietnam War in the 1960s.
> 
> I do not come from a family of marines. But after learning about them in the process of background researching for this story, I have come to appreciate "Semper Fi" a whole lot more.
> 
> Before I forget, after watching 5x17 of THE FLASH, I found it really cool that Barry Allen's mom's grandfather had proposed in a similar way to Oliver in this story - stringing the engagement ring through his dog tag chain until the time was right to propose. When I was mapping out the plot for this fic and while I was writing Chapter 1 a few months ago, that idea popped into my head and I decided it was a really good idea. I guess Kreisberg et. al. had thought so, too!


	8. Rising from the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through a new friend and ally, Felicity finds out what happened to Dante Ramon and why that places Oliver in grave danger once again. The consequences lead to hope and a renewed sense of purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's been more than a month since the last update, but I'm back. Rising from the ashes myself, so to speak. Survived the toughest three weeks of the year in my job, plus a week of writer's block. But the last few episodes of Arrow since 5x20 have really given the boost I needed to write this new chapter, so after a long wait, here it is!

July 20, 1942  
Somewhere between Orani and Orion, Bataan

Felicity is going as fast as her feet could carry her down the creek-side path in the woods. It had been a few months since Dante had led her and Barry down this path for the first time in order to save Oliver's life, and her sprained ankle had long since healed. But for her, it still feels like déjà vu under the circumstances, because once again, Oliver is in grave danger. The only difference is that she is with a man that she hardly knows and vaguely trusts, and only because she had decided earlier tonight that it was better to give the uncouth stranger the benefit of the doubt instead of risking Oliver's safety. She is usually unwilling to take chances, but this one is an exception.

Rene Ramirez came to the Red Cross clinic at dusk – barged into it, rather – demanding that he speak to the American nurse there. Since her partner, Marge Utinsky, had gone back to Manila where she was badly needed at ANRC headquarters, clearly Felicity was the one Mr. Ramirez was looking for. In a quick succession of broken English words, he introduced himself to her as "Ka Rene," formerly with the now-defunct Philippine Constabulary and currently a leader of a small band of guerillas in the vicinity of Orani. He explained that his motley crew of vigilantes had sprung up when the war had broken out in Bataan last January, initially in response to uncontrolled looting in the towns by bandits and marauders who had been taking advantage of the chaos of war for selfish gain. According to Rene, his group of civilian peace-keepers and vigilantes has evolved into an arm of the growing Filipino resistance movement in Central Luzon, in response to the crises of the Japanese occupation and the clamor for liberation among the people who refuse to bow down to their foreign oppressors.

Rene further explained that he was on the run. His group had just disbanded, after the release and return of one of his men, who had been arrested in Orani more than two weeks ago by the Kempeitai, or the Japanese military police. That man had been tortured to obtain information about the guerillas in the area and to confirm the rumors that a radio station operated by an unsurrendered officer of the Philippine Army somewhere in the nearby province of Nueva Ecija has indeed been in contact with the American forces in Australia for the past months. The man, who had hurriedly returned to their underground base without his fingernails and with multiple broken ribs and a fractured arm, had not been successfully broken, so the Kempeitai had no choice but to release him, forcing him to sign pertinent papers that testify to the lie that he had been treated humanely while he was imprisoned and interrogated. The man knew better that he wasn't being released just like that; instead, he suspected that his release had been a ploy by the Japanese so that they could follow him to their base in the woods, and so he wisely advised Rene and the handful of men that he had found there to disperse immediately and lay low, to hide as fugitives until they could possibly regroup safely in the future.

Before Rene parted ways with this man in the woods, the man had disclosed that he had shared a prison cell with another man named Dante Ramon from the town of Orion, whom he had tried to recruit into the underground movement on the day they both got arrested in the town plaza, thanks to the treachery of an unidentified Filipina who has been fast gaining an infamous reputation as a collaborator with the Japanese. He told Rene that Dante had shared information with him about an American marine that his family had been secretly protecting since April, and asked him to make sure the American would stay safe if and when Dante didn't make it out of incarceration alive. Dante had tried to endure torture for the last two weeks and hold on for as long as he could, but unlike him, Dante was no soldier.

Dante's body had been bruised and battered almost beyond recognition, and his will had given out under duress. Just as Rene's man was being dragged out of their cell to be released, Dante was being dragged back into it, broken and dying. With Dante's last breath, he had whispered regretfully, "I'm so sorry." They both had understood what that meant.

The Kempetai had not succeeded in getting the information about the radio station in Nueva Ecija from Rene's trusted fighter, but they had unexpectedly discovered the whereabouts of an escaped American POW hiding out in Orion under the guise of a journalist with the alias "Robert King." The Japanese have been busy suppressing the rebellions in various regions, especially the ones near Manila and its surrounding provinces. The guerillas and freedom fighters were branded as criminals and outlaws, enemies of the Japanese regime and the Filipino (puppet) government, in order to alienate them from the civilian population that had been subdued into obeisance. Among the various assignments of the Kempeitai are the tasks of capturing unsurrendered Filipino and American military remnants and escaped POWs and crushing isolated civilian and vigilante groups that are already joining forces with those freedom fighters and supporting the growing resistance movement.

Rene knew that as soon as the Kempeitai finish rounding up everyone they can capture from his disbanded group of guerillas, they were going to go for the American fugitive. That was why he had rushed to the Red Cross clinic: Dante had told Rene's comrade that the younger American nurse there is privy to the identity and whereabouts of the escaped American prisoner. Rene understood that she was his only hope of protecting the American from the Kempeitai.

Felicity and Rene know that time is of the essence. But even if the trek down the creek-side path is slower than the commute via the national road, they had no choice but to take it because they obviously could not be seen together along a public road, not even in the cover of darkness. They would never make it past the military checkpoint between Orani and Orion. Felicity is anxious that she might not find the way back to the Ramon family's nipa hut, because it has been, after all, a few months since that fateful night she had been reunited with Oliver, yet Rene still follows her lead. It takes them only half of the time she had traveled with Dante and Barry before to reach the nipa hut where she had last seen Oliver.

**********************************

The hut is empty. The mattress on the floor has no covers. There are no clothes anywhere. It looks like no one has stayed in the hut for several days, and it worries Felicity.

"Oliver?" she calls softly as she scans the interior of the hut.

"There's no one here," Rene remarks. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

Felicity does not answer him. She is too preoccupied thinking.

After a minute, she beckons Rene to follow her to the Ramon family house just a few meters away. When the wooden house is in view, they see light through an open window. When they are only a few feet away from the rear entrance of the house, Rene grabs Felicity's wrist and tells her softly, "Let me go first." She nods in agreement, seeing that he is only trying to make sure she's safe.

Just as Rene moves to enter the batalan, a robust, muscular arm grabs him by the neck in a sneak attack. He tries to break free, but the lock around his neck is so tight and strong. In a split second, the shadowy figure flips him over and pins him to the ground.

"Who are you and why are you here?" his attacker asked in a low, gravelly voice that scares him to his bones. The man's entire weight is on top of Rene, large, calloused hands holding him down by the neck. Rene wonders how in the world he would be able to squeak out an answer.

Before he could utter anything comprehensible, his female companion rushes to them and pleads with his attacker. "Oliver!" Felicity cries out, trying her best not to shout in panic so as not to frighten anyone else who is inside the house. She holds him by the arm and pleads with him to let Rene go.

Oliver does not recognize her face immediately in the darkness, not taking his eyes off the Filipino he has pinned down on the ground. It's her voice and the feel of her hand on his arm that gives her identity away.

"Felicity," he whispers, his voice suddenly transforming from its initial ferocity to a characteristic gentleness that has always only been meant for her. "What are you doing here? Who is this man?"

"We came to warn you," she replies. "The Japanese military police already know that you are here. They're coming for you. You have to leave this place with Rene. He can take you somewhere safe."

Felicity's hand is still clutching his upper arm as their eyes lock onto each other. For a moment, time stands still for them, and they take in each other's presence with so much affection. It's as if there is no one else there. They have sorely missed each other in the past few months. Their brief correspondences via secret courier have not been enough to satisfy their longing, even if they had parted for the nth time under less than amiable circumstances. Once again, a dire predicament has brought them back together, albeit physically.

Oliver wants so much to cradle his beloved's face in his hands and press his lips against hers, but the need for a verbal response overpowers it. "I understand," he says to her.

He realizes that he still hasn't let go of Felicity's companion, which she has referred to as a certain "Rene," so he releases the man, who immediately gets up and frowns upon him. "Forgive me," he apologizes, and extends his hand to offer a handshake. Rene takes his offered hand and nods to acknowledge the friendly gesture.

Oliver brings them into the house where Aling Elena and Francisco are already waiting in anticipation. (Apparently, the commotion had gotten them out of their rooms.) Introductions are made after Felicity is enveloped in a warm hug by the older woman.

With a heavy heart, Felicity informs mother and son about Dante's fate in the hands of the Japanese military police, emphasizing the courage that the woman's older son had displayed in the face of severe, unjust suffering. Rene expresses his condolence after he confirms that Dante had not made it out of the prison alive. Aling Elena looks down as teardrops begin to fall on her bare feet; she sobs softly, reining in as much anger and grief as she could, upon realizing that she will never see her son again. Felicity turns to Francisco and sees the downcast expression on the young man's face. Now there's just the two of them left. This cruel war is picking them off one by one.

Seeing how the Ramons are grieving over the news of Dante's cruel passing, Felicity hesitates, unsure whether or not she should give them more unpleasant news. But she knows she has to. The clock is ticking, and the Kempeitai will soon be at their door to remand Oliver into custody. Over her dead body. She finds her voice once again and proceeds to explain why Oliver needs to leave as soon as possible.

"It is sad that you have to go, Mr. Oliver, but you have to. Kiko and I will miss you. Thank you for everything you have done for our people. I wish and pray that you will survive the war and be able to go home to your family," Aling Elena says, trying her best to force a smile. "You and Ms. Felicity deserve a chance to live a long and happy life," she added.

Oliver and Felicity exchange glances at that. No words need to be spoken.

"You better pack quickly and get going," Aling Elena tells Oliver. "Kiko, please help Mr. Oliver gather his things."

Francisco stands to obey his mother, but as he walks away to retrieve Oliver's meager belongings from his room, he turns back to Aling Elena and surprises his mother with these words, spoken in his native tongue: "Nanay, I'm going with them. Please, let me go and fight for our people. It is what Tatay and Kuya Dante would do if they were still alive."

Aling Elena's lips quiver at her son's words. His determination and courage impresses her, and that supersedes whatever anxieties she may have for his safety. A few seconds later, she darts from where she sits and clings to her son fiercely. It's not because she won't let him go; it's because she is immensely proud of him. She does not express her approval in so many words. She simply kisses her son's cheeks and forehead and nods repeatedly. "Go with God, my son," she tells Francisco.

"We will keep an eye on him," Oliver assures Aling Elena. He remembers his mother Moira, and he understands better how hard his absence must be to her, to his father Robert, and to his younger sister Thea. He has to survive this war, he resolves.

********************************

Oliver, Felicity, Rene, and Francisco depart by way of the creek under the guidance of the moonlight.

"Where will you go?" Felicity asks Rene.

"It is no longer safe here. Bataan is swarming with Japanese troops and the Kempeitai. We have to go north to Zambales province. The mountains are the safest place to be for any guerilla, and especially for an American POW. The lowlands of Luzon are already heavily occupied by the Japanese military," Rene replies.

He explains further, "When our small group of vigilantes learned that Lt. Col. Guillermo Nakar of the Philippine Army has successfully made contact with the Americans in Australia, we gained hope. The radio station in Nueva Ecija exists, and the resistance has been able to transmit valuable intel to Australia. Liberation might not take as long as we think it would. That was why we decided to join the growing guerilla movement." Rene smiled at his companions.

"We have heard reports that a certain Col. Claude Thorp had managed to retreat from Bataan with his remaining men and cross Japanese lines. He has been able to establish a headquarters in the Zambales mountains. The reports say that Thorp is making progress in unifying isolated resistance forces and independent guerilla groups in Central Luzon. Word is, he is attempting to coordinate with the other resistance forces amassing in Northern and Eastern Luzon, the Southern Tagalog region, and the Bicol region. Many of these guerilla groups are led by either American or Filipino military officers that have not surrendered to the Japanese, or members of the dissolved police force. Before we disbanded, my men and I had been planning to join Thorp's movement in Zambales. I believe that's where we should be headed," Rene explained further.

Oliver listens quietly to everything that Rene says, deciding whether or not he should give this Filipino his full trust. Felicity seems to trust him, and that alone makes him less agitated.

"How far is Zambales from here?" she asks.

"The border between Bataan and Zambales is just a few hours on foot from here. That's not a difficult journey. The tough one is hiking up the mountains once we cross into Zambales. It might take us a couple of days or more, depending on our speed, to reach Thorpe's base of operations. There will be checkpoints," Rene answers.

"Oh… I had hoped that where you're going isn't so far away. Once you get there, there would hardly be a way to communicate with you," Felicity says, thinking out loud. "How do you suppose we could stay in touch?" she asks, glancing at Oliver with worry in her eyes.

"I haven't figured that out yet," Rene confesses. "Thorpe might have a radio in his headquarters, but you don't. We would have to rely on good old-fashioned messengers, but then again, it might be a while before you hear anything from us, or we hear anything from you. But honestly, Ms. Smoak, you are a civilian and a foreigner at that. For your own safety, you might want to reconsider attempting to contact us at all. As long as you stay in the clinic, we should be able to send word. But I can't say when or how often."

Felicity's heart sinks. She and Oliver will be separated again. For an indefinite period of time. She thinks she should have gotten used to saying goodbye to him by now, but she never will.

"Let's not say goodbye this time, then," Oliver proposes, snapping her out of her melancholic musing, and she realizes that she had said those things out loud again.

"Let's not," was her teary-eyed response.

Felicity feels his hand taking hold of hers, and he intertwines their fingers as they make their back to the outskirts of Orani. She flashes him a smile, and he smiles back at her with his ocean blue eyes that glisten in the moonlight. The gesture is sweet, but it's not quite enough to soothe the ache that throbs in her heart at the thought that, once again, she would have to part ways with the man she still loves so dearly, despite the differences in their perspectives of things that have caused them to disagree multiple times – the last two times, almost irreparably. If they could afford to slow down their pace a bit so that they could stay by each other's side a little while longer, she would appreciate it tremendously, but with the enemy at their heels, her wish is practically out of the question.

"What changed your mind?" Felicity asks.

Oliver does not have to clarify what she meant by that question. He knows that she is referring to what they had vehemently disagreed upon the last time they were together in the hut – his resolute rejection of taking up arms again and fighting for freedom and justice, in favor of just trying to survive the war and going home.

"Dante," Oliver responds, "and the sacrifices that his family has made." He pauses, voice shaking and fading with the last few words he uttered. He can't help but admire the courage and patriotism of this simple family. It reminds him of who he had been – a young marine with the vision of making the world a better place by serving people and defending the oppressed, someone that his family and his girlfriend had been proud of.

Oliver takes a deep breath and continues, "Dante wasn't even an enlisted soldier with a sworn duty to defend and fight for his people, and yet he had the courage to stand up for what he believed in. I haven't even lost any member of my family in this struggle. My parents and Thea are safe back home. But this family… They've lost so much. There's just mother and son now. Francisco is not even a grown man, and yet he… He's all that Mrs. Ramon has left, and she still lets him go. How can I not make the same sacrifice, Felicity? I've been a coward, hiding behind my scarred past and my present fears. And I say that to my shame."

Knowing Felicity, she would have called him out on his use of sentence fragments to express himself, but she doesn't. Because she feels her heart wanting to soar.

This is the man she had fallen in love with. This is her Oliver! And he is most beautiful in her eyes when he is most honest to himself and most willing to bare his heart to her. She has waited for months to have him back, and her silent prayers have finally been answered. She knows it's not going to be this easy for him to work out all of his issues; he will still vacillate between regrets and resolve in the coming days. But at least he's beginning to see things more clearly and more sensibly now. Perhaps the isolation of the mountains and the company of a band of bold brothers that awaits him there are what he really needs right now for his paradigm to shift completely for him to rediscover his purpose and for the hero inside him to resurface.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, Oliver," Felicity comforts him, casting an encouraging look as they walked briskly. "You've been through hell and back. No one should have to, but you did. You're going to come out of all this a stronger, better person."

What she says overwhelms him that he has to stop walking and face her. He holds both her shoulders and stares deep into her eyes. Although his heart is gripped with so much gratitude and appreciation for her love and understanding, he is unable to say anything. Instead, he pulls her in and kisses the top of her head. He takes deep breaths, savoring the scent of the woman he loves. When they pull apart, he takes her hand again, and prompts her for them to start walking again to catch up with Rene and Francisco.

"What will you do there?" she asks him after an extended period of silence between them.

"I don't really know. Follow orders, maybe," Oliver answers.

Felicity is tempted to tease him about something that he had said to her in the nipa hut when they had argued – about him not wanting to take orders from superiors anymore, about him not fighting someone else's war any longer – but she decides not to press him now, not when he is seriously processing the direction he is taking.

"Maybe you'll figure things out once you see the situation up there. I'm sure there's something significant you can contribute to the resistance since you've actually seen action in China," she suggests.

China. The thought of that place and the things he had done there temporarily distract him and tempt him to brood. Action hadn't been the only thing he had seen there. He had witnessed the dark side of humanity in various forms, and that trauma had been triggered by the Death March that he and his best friends had gone through.

Oliver's body suddenly stiffens and becomes tense at the mention of China, and Felicity quickly senses it. She wants to let him know that whatever it is that bothers him does not diminish her love and esteem of him. She doesn't have to know, and she believes that someday he will find the courage to tell her, if and when he's ready. She squeezes his hand to reassure him that she loves him and accepts him, flaws and all. Somehow, he gets it, because with just one look from her tender, affectionate eyes, his guilt and regrets are washed away. He tells himself that when he gets to the mountains, he will have to find a way to drive away his demons without her.

"I'm sure you will, Oliver. I believe in you," Felicity tells him. It's only then that he realizes that this time, he is the one verbalizing his thoughts out loud.

They reach Orani after midnight. After a chaste kiss of promise to do everything within their power to stay alive until they see each other again, Oliver lets go of her hand and she walks away cautiously the rest of the way from the creek into town, with Francisco as her bodyguard. Thirty minutes later, Francisco returns to the creek and joins the two men in their hike up to the Zambales mountains.

**************************************

August 30, 1942  
The Red Cross Clinic in Orani, Bataan

It has been a long, tiring day for Felicity and her clinic staff of two volunteers. The increasing number of cases of malaria in Orani and surrounding villages are starting to get alarming, considering their supply of quinine is fast depleting. The American Red Cross HQ in Manila has not been able to send supplies in over a month because of the worsening situation of corruption in the checkpoints en route to various Red Cross clinics in the provinces, where Japanese officers order the illegal confiscation of medical supplies (including quinine) for their own use and for distribution in their internment camps in Central Luzon. Just today, Felicity has seen a dozen patients from poor communities, half of them children, and she is worried that if the number of cases continues to rise, they would be swamped with infected patients that they will not be able to treat. They would be defenseless against an outbreak.

Aurora and Gloria retired early and are already resting in their small apartment upstairs, while Felicity is busy tidying up the clinic – a task that she volunteered to do tonight after sharing the chicken rice porridge they had for supper. As she washed the utensils and put away the instruments and medical supplies in their proper storage places, her mind wondered about Oliver.

She hasn't seen him since they parted ways a month ago. He hasn't come down from the mountains, and that is perfectly fine with her for his own safety, but he also hasn't sent any word about his current situation. She had wanted to know if he, Rene, and Francisco had safely reached Col. Thorp's undisclosed base in Zambales, and even now she yearns so much to know how he is doing.

She certainly doesn't mind if she could also have updates about how the guerilla movements in the islands are growing and organizing. She wants to be able to do something more than just treat the sick and nurse the wounded. Townsfolk are mostly scared, preferring to obey the Japanese and live as peacefully as they possibly can under the circumstances, but not too scared to care. Brave patriots – men, women, and even young people – do what they can to help the underground movement by secretly and cautiously providing food, supplies, transport, and intel under the noses of Japanese patrols whenever and however they can. The clinic has continued to be a safe haven for a handful of guerillas who are wounded and for spies who seek shelter when the Japanese are on their tail while they are on a covert mission. The clinic that used to be known to everyone in the area as just the home of the "Fearless Four" has now become a metaphor of safe passage in Bataan for the resistance.

Felicity has tried as much as possible not to involve Aurora and Gloria when it came to contact with any member of the resistance movement, for their protection. Whenever a special "patient" came in for medical assistance, she personally attends to him, and whenever she attempts to obtain information about the guerilla movement from anyone who comes to the clinic, she would send the two Filipino women on separate errands into town before she engaged in sensitive conversations.

So far, she has already confirmed the existence of the radio station in Nueva Ecija run by the Filipino officer that Rene Ramirez had told them about, as well as the organizing of various guerilla forces in the different provinces of Luzon. Unfortunately, in the past weeks, of the three guerilla fighters and spies she had encountered, none of them were from the Zambales mountains where Oliver and his companions had fled to.

Felicity is just about to turn off the lights in the clinic when she hears a faint knock on the door. She opens the door and recognizes a familiar face.

"Kiko?" she asks, unsure of whether or not it really is Francisco Ramon standing in front of her.

"Yes, Ma'am, it's me," the young man confirms.

"Come in, quickly," Felicity tells him softly.

When the boy is calmly seated on the chair that she provides, she sits on a patient's bed near him and asks curiously, "What brings you here? How is Oliver?" She tries to keep her volume level down, but she can't quite contain her enthusiasm.

"They sent me here to get medicine. A couple of the men who have recently joined us in the mountains are sick with malaria," Francisco says. "Can you help?" he asks.

"Of course," Felicity replies affirmatively. "You can take some quinine back with you for those men, but I'll give you more just in case others get sick. We are almost out, because several people have gotten sick here, too, so I can't give you everything we have. I don't expect supplies from Manila anytime soon."

"That's alright," says Francisco. "We'll take whatever you can give us."

Felicity goes about procuring the needed medicines. She removes the powdered quinine from the medicine bottles and repacks them in multiple tiny plastic bags enough for individual doses, and then she buries them separately in three kilos of rice that the young man can carry with him in a market basket covered with vegetables and sweet potato. After giving careful instructions to Francisco about the proper administration and storage of the quinine, she tells him, "Here, take this. Hopefully, no one will give you a second look."

She is about to ask him again about Oliver, but he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulls out a piece of paper, and hands it to her. "Mr. Oliver asked me to give this to you," he says.

"Thank you," she says as she opens the folded piece of paper and begins to read its contents. The message is written hurriedly and is not as long as the letters they used to write one another when he was serving overseas, but she is hardly disappointed. Because what Oliver tells her is more than enough to allay her worries, give her hope of better days, and restore the pride she has in him:

"Dear Felicity, sorry it took so long for me to send word. It's not easy. We got here safely. Thorp has organized a good number of men, and more are joining. Based on our intel, Australia knows that the resistance movement is alive in the islands. The bad news is that Nakar's radio station in N.E. is no longer operational. Word is, he's been captured and executed. I've been asked to train and lead a handful of volunteers for special missions when they found out about my background. It took me weeks, but now I've finally decided I'm ready. Thank you for believing in me. I'm picking up the bow, my love. Pray for my safety and a steady aim. Hope to see you someday soon. OQ"

Felicity is smiling as she reads through the letter scribbled by the love of her life – for the most part. Towards the end, though, there is a slight frown on her face. "Picking up the bow…," she whispers to herself, puzzled. "What is he talking about?"

Whatever it is, she decides that she can let it go because she knows she will eventually find out. What is important now is that Oliver has finally found his worth and purpose once again; she is overjoyed upon learning that her hero has truly risen from the ashes.

She goes to the pantry, takes a match, and burns the letter. Before sending off Francisco, she asks him to commit to memory a short message to recite to Oliver verbatim when he gets back to the mountains: 

"Glad to know you're safe. Proud of what you're doing. Can't wait to see you again. Love, FS."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that? Please let me know what you think, or at least, if you're still following this. I'd really appreciate hearing from you. Hopefully, the next update won't take as long to post.
> 
> The Kempeitai is the Japanese military police, which was not really a conventional police force but more like a secret police. They were very active during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines in WWII. Among the responsibilities of the Kempeitai during war time were counter-intelligence and propaganda and running extensive criminal and collaborationist networks, arresting people with anti-war sentiments. They were also in-charge of the Allied POW system, known to have treated captives with extreme brutality. Many of the human rights abuses they committed were documented in Japanese war crimes trials after the war. Based on what I've read, such brutalities and war atrocities were done not only in the Philippines during WWII but also in Korea and in China in the first half of the 20th century.
> 
> The resistance movements in the Philippines is a very interesting topic to read about. I didn't realize that the networks of guerillas had been so extensive during the Japanese occupation - involving all the major islands and provinces other than the largest island of Luzon - and that their contribution to the liberation of our country was very significant. In fact, Gen. MacArthur paid tribute to the valiant Filipino freedom fighters who were responsible for providing valuable intel to the Americans in Australia, for radio communications, and for special missions and assignments that paved the way for the return of the Americans to the islands, the liberation of POWs from the Japanese military camps, and the subsequent surrender and defeat of the Japanese. The partnership between the Filipino guerillas and the unsurrendered American troops and escaped POWs was absolutely impressive! This chapter and the ones that follow are a tribute to the heroism of those freedom fighters that gave their lives and those that emerged from the ashes of war victorious and alive. Among the thousands was my very own grandfather, a USAFFE WWII veteran who survived the war, rose up the ranks and became a Brigadier General post-war, and died of cancer in the 1980s.
> 
> Lt. Col. Guillermo Nakar and Col. Claude Thorp were real people. Nakar did operate the radio station in Nueva Ecija that was able to make contact with the American forces in Australia, but was captured and executed by the Japanese. The radio transmissions ceased in August of 1942. Thorp was assigned by Gen. MacArthur to conduct intelligence operations in the Zambales mountains during the Battle of Bataan, so he and his men were not among those who had surrendered on April 9, 1942. During the Japanese occupation, he organized fighters and formed the Luzon Guerilla Force in the Zambales mountains and was temporarily successful in uniting the guerilla movements in the region. He was captured in October 1942 and was bayoneted to death by the Japanese one year after in Manila.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Red Cross and Green Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guerrilla movement suffers a huge setback. Felicity gets an unexpected night visit from a stranger. Another piece of the puzzle of Oliver's back story is revealed; we understand more why he is the man that he is and why the horrors of WWII, especially the Death March nearly destroyed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're as happy as I am that I'm uploading this next chapter sooner than usual. Had some vacation time with family and was able to squeeze writing this piece by piece while the kids and the hubby were busy with their own stuff. Hope you like it!

October 30, 1942  
Orani, Bataan

There is a knock on the door of the Red Cross clinic. Felicity immediately notices the secret pattern that is followed by silence.

"Gloria!" Felicity calls out.

The Filipina Red Cross volunteer is busy cleaning up in the pantry since they had just finished breakfast. Gloria has been the only one with her in the past couple of days. Aurora (or Auring, as she fondly calls her other co-worker and friend) had gone to visit her family in Pampanga province when they had gotten word that her elderly father has fallen ill.

"Yes, Ms. Smoak?" Gloria responds, drying her hands with a towel as she approaches.

"Would you kindly run to the market and get me some fresh pandan leaves? My stomach's acting up again," Felicity politely requests.

The young lady smiles and nods, taking just the right amount of coins from their can of change on the service table. "I'll be back soon, miss. Is there anything else you need?" she asks Felicity.

"I think we're almost out of eggs, too." Eggs aren't really among their priorities. And since the Japanese occupation began, there really isn't much that can be bought from the market anyway even if you had a lot of money to buy anything you wanted. Felicity just thought that asking for eggs would bide her more time to entertain the guest who wanted to speak with her in private.

"Sure," Gloria says. When she retrieves enough centavos from the can, she walks past Felicity and out the door.

As soon as Gloria leaves, Felicity turns over the foot mat just outside the front door of the clinic. It is the signal that it is safe for the messenger to come into the clinic.

A couple of minutes later, there is another knock on the door with the same pattern as before. She moves to open it, and she is pleasantly surprised that it is her dear friend Mang Tasyo himself that is calling on her, instead of his trusted hired hand whom he usually sends on errands like this.

"Come in, Mang Tasyo. It's been a while," Felicity tells the older man who takes off his native hat and enters the clinic, fanning himself with it.

"Yes, my dear," Mang Tasyo acknowledges her, as she takes his hand. She bows her head and brings the older man's hand up to touch her forehead, as is the manner of showing respect to the elderly among the locals. "I'm afraid I have some disheartening news," he tells her. His voice is somber, almost foreboding.

"Oh," Felicity utters. The smile on her face fades, and she is suddenly gripped by anxiety. She hopes the troublesome news has nothing to do with the very person she has been missing for the past three months. She hasn't seen Oliver or heard from him since Francisco's short visit, when the young man hand-carried his handwritten note last August.

The older man does not bother to sit down. He pulls up a chair for her to sit on. "Col. Thorp and his staff…" Mang Tasyo begins, shaking his head. "There was a raid by the Japanese last night in Zambales, and they… They were trapped and captured. My sources in Olongapo tell me that the Japanese patrols there have been bragging about this since midnight. Word is, Thorp is being transferred to the prison in Manila, most likely for interrogation. This is such a big blow to the cause of the resistance. We were all counting on the colonel to centralize guerrilla operations in the different regions of Luzon."

Mang Tasyo is clearly disappointed by the news. He shakes his head once more and then wipes his face with the palm of his hand. Then he stares at Felicity, studying the concerned expression he observes on her face. He knows that she's not just thinking about the major setback suffered by the resistance movement; he knows she is just as worried about someone she cared about.

"Ms. Smoak, you should know," Mang Tasyo continues, "that most of Thorp's men got away in the midst of the skirmish. Most likely, some went higher up into the mountains or fled to join other guerrilla groups in the nearby provinces." He pauses a while, and then he crouches down a bit and takes Felicity's clammy hands to somehow assure her that not everything is lost.

"The Kempeitai are still hunting down the Green Arrow and his archers. Try as hard as they might to interrogate Thorp and his staff, I strongly believe that none of them will break. I suppose, the Green Arrow and his men are not in any immediate danger right now."

Mang Tasyo squeezes her hands to comfort her, but he knows that she still needs to hear what he has to say next. "But without Thorp in command, the splintered group of fighters are on their own. They may not stand a chance against the Japanese in the long run."

Felicity heaves a sigh. She's not sure if it is out of relief that her beloved is safe at the moment or if it is out of worry that Oliver and his men are presently on the run, demoralized and vulnerable to their enemies. Where would they go? Where would they hide? Would the Green Arrow be able to keep the morale of his men up and manage to regroup somehow?

******************************

The Green Arrow. Less than a month ago, reports began to spread among the locals in Zambales province and the northern borders of Bataan about a small group of archers led by a man clad in a green, hooded leather jacket. Skeptics thought they were merely a break-away group of rebels without a real cause to fight for. The Japanese and their Filipino supporters in the area considered them bandits and outlaws that needed to be caught and jailed like criminals. But after the successful raid of a Japanese garrison near the Zambales mountains by Col. Thorp's men, the locals have begun to speak of the archers as heroes and patriots to whom that small yet significant victory can be attributed.

After the incident, reliable sources sympathetic to the resistance movement related that the archers had initially taken out all the Japanese guards around the perimeter of the garrison with just their hand-made bows and bamboo arrows from a safe distance, without the Japanese even knowing they were there. This had allowed Thorp's men to move into the premises stealthily and free their comrades that had been caught and arrested a few days prior, as well as to seize every available weapon and ammunition in the garrison. Even if the Japanese in the garrison actually outnumbered Thorp's men, they had been caught by surprise. By the time the Japs realized what was happening, their garrison had been breached. Thorp's men swiftly released the captured guerrillas from their holding cells and sacked the weapons storage facility. The Japs had tried to pursue the guerrilla fighters that fled with their prisoners, weapons, and artillery through the rear gate, but every one of them that had tried had been shot on the legs and arms with bamboo arrows from various directions by adversaries that were nowhere in sight. Reports of the raid had been widely circulated in the towns and villages in Zambales, much to the humiliation of the Japanese command in the province.

Prior to that celebrated raid by the guerrillas, the resistance groups in Luzon had focused mainly on covert communications and gathering of intel to pass on to Australia and to the other regions of the archipelago for the purpose of solidifying the underground movement and paving the way for the return of the American troops as promised by Gen. MacArthur. Their primary strategic thrust has been defensive, since the movement is still in its organizing and recruitment phase and the sensitive task of passing on intel from region to region is extremely vital and is still considered top priority. Because of the lack of weapons, ammunition, artillery, and transportation, the different guerrilla groups have been in no position to go on the offensive or to engage the enemy.

Nevertheless, with the news of Thorp's triumph and of the cunning feat accomplished by the elusive archers, other guerrilla groups in the area have been inspired to attempt minor but strategic rescue and weapons seizure missions, which have become key to arming the growing number of freedom fighters. Just in the last week another garrison in Zambales and one more in northern Bataan had been penetrated by guerrillas, with more ammo and supplies taken from the Japanese. Rumor has it, those too have only been successful because of the assistance of the same group of skillful archers.

No one really knows the identity of the hooded hero that heads this small group of clever and crafty patriots allied to the resistance movement. The locals argue about whether he is Filipino or American. Some say that he is Filipino because of his weapon of preference; the green bamboo arrows that he and his men leave behind on their targets are indigenous in design and make. Others say that he is American, for why else did he have to conceal his face and the color of his skin by wearing a long-sleeved, hooded jacket? Still a handful speculate that he might be Filipino-American, which is why they say he is extremely sympathetic to the liberation of the people of the islands.

Alhough they differ, people of various opinions have agreed on one thing: the aptness of the moniker that they have given him: "the Green Arrow." Whoever he is, every freedom-loving person who hears of his leadership and of the valor of his team has seen a glimmer of hope in the midst of the darkness. Many more have arisen and joined the ranks of the resistance, because the Green Arrow and his band have inspired people that even crude bows and improvised arrows can make a difference.

Felicity, however, believes that she knows exactly who the Green Arrow is, even if she has never once met him. When news of the successful rescue and seizure mission in Zambales reached her, she immediately remembered what Oliver had written to her in his letter. "I'm picking up my bow, my love," he had told her. Now she understands, and whenever she overhears people speaking of the hooded archer and praising the efforts of his band of archers, her heart overflows with mirth and pride.

Mang Tasyo does not stay longer than necessary. A few minutes after he leaves, Gloria returns. She and Felicity open the clinic for another day of service to the community.

Later that night, someone else comes to call on the services of the Red Cross clinic, and the stranger does not use the front door. Thankfully, Gloria is already fast asleep.

********************************

"Ms. Smoak…" the stranger whispered, his face mere inches away from her own.

Felicity awakes with a start and almost screams when she sees the shadow of a hooded stranger right in front of her. He promptly covers her mouth with his leather-gloved hand.

"Shh… I'm not going to hurt you, Felicity," he softly assures her. His voice oddly has a calming effect on her nerves, and she does not understand why.

When he senses her relaxing somewhat, he removes his hand from her mouth and leans back to let her see him more clearly. Her pupils dilate, adjusting to seeing in the darkness.

"Who are you? And how do you know my name?" she asks.

The stranger smiles mildly, giving her a tiny peek at his pearly whites. "Because you know mine," he answers, removing the hood from his head.

"Oliver," Felicity whispers. She is pleasantly surprised.

She holds up her hand to caress his stubbly cheek. She notices that he has grown his beard. It covers his entire jaw line, almost all of his cheeks. With the hood over his head, she notes that his grown beard aids in hiding his identity not only as a fugitive, but more especially as an American. The only thing that gives him away is his blue eyes, which she could barely make out in the faint glow of moonlight that seeps into the room through the thin curtains.

Oliver takes her hand, the one that is stroking his cheek, and brings it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it. She sits up so that they are now on the same level, with him kneeling beside her bunk bed.

Felicity knows they run the risk of Gloria waking up in the nearby bunk bed, so she motions for him to follow her. She leads him downstairs as quietly as possible. As they reach the foot of the stairs, she feels one of his arms grab her by the waist, and in an instant, she is pinned between the wall and his strong, brawny body.

"Oliver!" she exclaims in a heightened whisper. "What is going on with you?" she asks, completely flabbergasted with his actions, yet not the least bit afraid. He had never been rough with her before, not even when they argued or fought. He had always been gentle and patient, and there have been times when she felt a bit uncomfortable that he treated her like fragile porcelain China.

She realizes that his other hand had come up and cradled her head to protect it from hitting the hard surface of the wall. She can feel his heavy breaths on her forehead and the heaving of his chest against hers. More than that, she can feel the desperation in his soul. She is glad that he, too, has pined for her as she has pined for him in the last few months.

He buries his face in her hair, unkempt and frazzled from sleep, yet smooth and freshly scented because of the shower she had had just before retiring for the night. The scent calms him down slowly. The intensity of his emotions warms her soul. For a moment, they remain still and silent, oblivious to everything else around them.

Felicity snakes her arms around his midsection and then moves one of her soft palms up and down his back to comfort and soothe him. She knows he is under a tremendous amount of stress since he and his men are running for their lives, but she must know why he risked coming down into town to see her.

Before she can speak, he whispers in her ear, "I thought I'd never get to see you again." He almost sobs.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here, you're here. We're okay," she tells him. "I heard about what happened, and that you got away. Why are you here? It's not safe."

"I… I had to see you," Oliver replies. His breath is warm on the skin of her neck, and he still hadn't let go of his firm grip on her. "I may never get to. Maybe not for a long time."

She nods in understanding, and that's when he pulls back. He looks into her eyes, and he sees that she understands. "The less you know, the safer you'll be," he says.

"I know," is her laconic response. She is still rubbing his back with soothing strokes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he answers.

He tucks a strand of stray blonde hair behind her ear. She brings up one of her hands to his shoulder, and then slides it down his upper arm, squeezing it in reassurance. He keeps himself from wincing, but she feels his arm flinch slightly.

Her eyes narrow as they look into his eyes. "You're hurt," she remarks, and then she takes his hand and leads him into the clinic.

Felicity lights the kerosene lamp. (After curfew, what little electric power is available in the provincial towns is shut down.) She makes him sit down on a chair near the lamp and helps him out of his leather jacket. She lifts his arm to have a better view of his arm near the light source, and he lets her.

"It's just a graze. It's nothing," he says, avoiding her eyes.

She responds with a glare, because she sees that while the wound is not that long, it is a bit deep. She does not like that he makes light of his injury, and she knows from experience what a graze from a rifle's bullet looks like. It appears she almost had lost him all over again. She takes a deep breath as she tells him, "It's going to need a few stitches."

Felicity proceeds to prepare what she needs to stitch him up, and he watches her every move. For him, watching her like this brings such delight. It's like a respite from the struggle he's been caught up in for several weeks now, but it's also a luxury that he knows he won't be able to enjoy in the coming weeks and months. Once again, he wonders what such a beautiful angel like her is doing in this war-torn hellhole.

There is nothing but silence between them as she treats his injury. He doesn't flinch as she cleans the wound, applies medicine to it, stitches it closed, and wraps his arm with a clean bandage. He just stares at her – sometimes at her refreshing face, sometimes at her skillful hands. He thinks that something good did come out of what had just happened; his injury has allowed him to spend a longer time with her tonight. He doesn't think it's a foolish thought at all.

As she puts away the tools and medicines and disposes of the used cotton and gauze, he says, "Thank you." She turns around and smiles. He has missed that smile, the one when her lips don't part but the corners turn up ever so slightly and it's her eyes that actually glisten, the one that she flashes fondly only for him.

When she returns with clean hands, she leans against a door frame, folds her arms across her chest, and asks him, "Where will you go?"

"Like I told you, the less you know, the safer you'll be," he answers, his voice low and gruff.

Felicity looks down, disappointed – not with his answer, but with the manner in which he says it. Oliver quickly picks up on her reaction, fortunately, and he immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so-"

"Grumpy," she interjects, finishing off his sentence. "Look, I know you're only concerned for my safety. And I'm not asking for details, really. I just… I want to make sure you'll be fine, wherever it is you're going. You could at least tell me the direction you're going. You know… so I know where to look… just in case. Because you're right. We may not see each other… for a while." She knows it's an understatement, yet she does not want to say 'never.' She also does not want to think about how long it's going to be until they get another chance like this.

"My men and I are headed east. We hear the guerrillas in Central and Eastern Luzon are just as strong and organized as Thorp's used to be, however divided. We've decided we won't be joining anyone's group strictly, but we'll do whatever we can to help out. We don't plan on staying in one place for long. It's better that way," Oliver explains in general.

Felicity simply nods and doesn't press him for more. Instead, she closes the distance between them. In just a few quick strides, she's standing right in front of him. She takes his head in her arms and draws him into her chest in an embrace. She rests her cheek on the crown of his head.

"Please, be careful, Oliver," she tells him, begs him. "Come back to me like you always do." She pulls back, wanting to see his face as she waits for a response.

Oliver looks up at her and rises from his seat. "I will," he promises her, pulling her close to his chest this time. "I promise."

She lifts her head with her eyes closed, expecting his lips to descend upon her forehead, and they do. He and she stay that way for what seems like an eternity. A single tear falls from her eye as he says to her, "I love you," and she replies, "And I love you."

Oliver lets go and walks away. No goodbyes are said, just like the last time.

He is almost at the door when he hears Felicity say, "I knew it was you." He turns to face her, curious as to what she means. "The Green Arrow, I mean." She flashes him that smile again. "I didn't exactly get it when you wrote about picking up the bow." A pinkish blush colors her cheeks. She feels mighty proud of him, and he can see it on her face, in her eyes. She tilts her head in the way that he has always found adorable. "Maybe someday you can tell me how you learned to do that."

She pauses, quite hesitant as to whether or not that request would be granted, and she decides not to press him further. She tells him instead, "Right now, I just want you to know… You're everyone's hero… and mine."

This time, Oliver is the one who smiles at her as if with heart eyes, and she knows she has just somehow helped to ease the turmoil inside him brought about by recent events.

Felicity blinks away the tears that are welling up in her eyes. And when she opens them again, he is gone.

***********************************

China, 1939

Oliver, Tommy, and John Diggle watched from afar as another navy ship loaded with American troops sailed away into the Pacific. Many of them have been their friends and comrades in battle.

Britain had already pulled out troops from Asia by the thousands months ago. France had already fallen into the hands of its German invaders; hence, the remaining French troops in the Asian region had already received orders to cooperate with the Japanese forces that have been pressuring and undermining the Western powers situated in the International Zone for over a year.

The 4th Marine Regiment was the only one left to oppose the Japanese and to hold the American position in China. Oliver and his friends wondered how long they would last. Some of the men in their unit had already been pulled out too, and transferred to the 1st Special Defense Battalion in the Philippines. Only two battalions are left, each with only two rifle companies of two platoons each and one machine gun company. Oliver and John belonged to the same rifle company, while Tommy was part of the machine gun company.

As the ship disappeared into the horizon, Oliver couldn't help but think back over the last couple of years. He was on his second tour in China; Tommy and John were on their first. On Oliver's first tour, he had been sent there on a special mission – official but concealed, just like the one that Major Lawton a.k.a. Deadshot had brought him along for in the winter of January 1937. It had been the mission that forever changed his perspective of combat and war. The one that had allowed the shadows of guilt and shame to creep into his soul and shroud it in darkness. The one that no one he loved and cared for knew about.

He had taken the lives of three innocent civilians – one bullet each from his long-range rifle. He had shot each one in the head from a considerable distance, without them ever knowing what hit them. They hadn't even known where he was or who he was. He was just obeying orders. Tragically, those orders had been given before the intel was verified. His victims had already been long dead before he learned of the fiasco. Each of those men had been someone's husband, or father, son or brother! Oliver had been angry and extremely frustrated, but he could do nothing to reverse it. The irony of it all was that, while his soul had suffered the torment of guilt, Lawton had commended him for a job well done. He had even earned a promotion in rank and pay. He had killed innocent people, and he had become Lance Corporal Oliver Queen. He had been ashamed of the new insignia on his uniform.

Oliver had thought that Shanghai would give him a shot a redemption, though. Lawton had assured him that his marksmanship training would be maximized in China for the greater good, to stop the Japanese from their imperialist agenda. Deadshot had told them that, while the eyes of the rest of the world have been on the war on the European front, what they would accomplish in China would definitely help prevent the Axis powers from taking over Asia as well. Oliver had believed that with all his heart.

But on his second tour, he was beginning to doubt it. "Haven't the Western European nations also been advancing an imperialist agenda overseas for centuries? Hasn't America? Which ones are really on the side of truth and justice and lasting peace? Am I even fighting for the right side?" he asked himself those questions quite a few times. He had seen enough carnage, chaos, and collateral damage in the last two years to make him second guess his allegiance and his purpose as a US marine. He had only been able to push those thoughts to the back of his mind because he had been occupied and focused on obeying one order after another.

When he was first deployed to China two years ago, he had expected his first tour of duty. He had not expected at all to be sent on a surreptitious training mission with only six other marksmen – the "best of the best" Deadshot had called them. They had been sent on an island called Lian Yu, which was located in the North China Sea, to be trained by a retired Chinese military officer who had a particularly special skill set. Yao Fei was his name. The island had had an eerie atmosphere that Oliver and his training companions had immediately sensed as soon as they set foot on the rocky beach. Purgatory – its name alone evoked an ominous feeling.

The first three months had been a rigorous training on the art and science of survival. The seven marines had not been given food, weapons, and supplies. They had nothing but the uniforms they wore, their pocket knives, and whatever they had in their pockets. They had to learn how to build their own temporary shelters from what was available in the forest, learn how to hunt for food, and learn how to build traps for larger ferocious animals or the smaller ones that they needed for food. They had also learned how to treat their own injuries using natural remedies like herbs and how to stitch up their own wounds. They had mastered every portion of the island – every cave, every cliff, every mountain or hill, every stream, fountain, and spring.

By the end of the second month, two of them had become seriously ill, and after a week of high fevers accompanied by terrible seizures and hallucinations, both men had succumbed to a disease that not one of them knew of. Since there had been no means of communication available to them, they had buried the two marines on the island and kept their dog tags to send back home to their loved ones, who would only begin to grieve months later, when Major Lawton returned and brought them back to the mainland.

On the fourth month, Yao Fei had begun to teach them a different kind of marksmanship – one that needed neither rifle nor gun. Their training in combat archery had started with how to make their own bows and arrows from natural materials. Soon, they had already been training how to shoot stationary and moving targets, in broad daylight and in the darkness of night. For Oliver though, Yao Fei had gone a step further because he had seen that the young man's adeptness and proficiency was a cut above the rest. By the time they left Lian Yu nine months after they had arrived, Oliver had learned to use his bow and arrow effectively even with his eyes blindfolded or closed.

Sure enough, Oliver's skill with the bow and arrow had proven to be the secret weapon of the 4th Marines, especially when he was issued a set of military grade bow and arrows. Major Lawton had been more than pleased even if the other four trained marine-archers were transferred to other assignments in Europe. (After every successful major mission, Lawton had recommended Oliver for promotions during his stint in China, such that towards the end of his third tour when the Pacific War broke out, he had become a 2nd Lieutenant.)

Tommy and John hadn't known about his clandestine missions as a marine-archer (if there really had been such a thing). Neither did any of their fellow marines. Oliver had been specifically ordered to keep them in the dark whenever he had been pulled out for special assignments. His friends had honored that order and hadn't pressured him to reveal anything confidential. Once he had even saved John's platoon from an ambush by the Japanese without them knowing who the mysterious archer had been that made safe passage back to Shanghai possible for them. Another time Tommy had even cracked a joke, making fun of the anonymous archer that was "better than all of the guys in his machine gun company combined." Oliver had only smirked in response.

And yet, the more enemies he had eliminated for the cause he had been trained to fight for, the darker Oliver's perspective of life and meaning had become. From time to time, he questioned whether or not his top-secret missions as an archer had been nothing but acts of cowardice. His targets hadn't even been given the chance to look at him face to face or to fight their opponent with honor. In every occasion, he had been one step ahead of his adversaries, and since he had never missed, all of his targets had not stood a chance.

Oliver walked away from the docks with his friends, thinking about that one particular mission that was forever etched in his memory. It was that rescue mission that almost made him resign. The one that had necessitated the help of Yao Fei.

Major Lawton had brought in his mentor - rather, agreed to bring in his mentor - because the man's daughter Shado, who had been working in the commissary in the American base, had been among the hostages taken by the retreating Japanese that had breached their facility and stolen from Lawton's office a confidential file containing vital intel that not even the commanding officer of the regiment had known about. Oliver and Yao Fei had been sent to recover that file, eliminate all the perpetrators that had gotten away, and bring back any of the hostages that were still alive, if there were any.

By the time Oliver and Yao Fei had tracked down the Japs and penetrated their camp in the cover of darkness, all the hostages had been murdered. Yao Fei had been devastated as he held his daughter's lifeless body in his arms, and all Oliver could do was weep with his friend. The file had been successfully retrieved from enemy hands, but not without adding Yao Fei to the casualties. Oliver had been so overcome with anger and pain that he had not spared a single target from the fury of his bow, his knife, and his very own fist.

The next morning, Oliver had returned to his platoon in shock because of everything that had transpired, but most of all, in deep remorse for what he had done. In just a few days, he had convinced himself that he had become a murderer. He had become withdrawn, and even his friends had noticed it. He couldn't even write to his family and to Felicity for months. It had been the bloodiest mission he'd taken on, and the only one wherein he had been able to see the horrors on the faces of his victims up close. The images haunted him in his sleep, and sometimes even in his waking moments. They were like claws that grated at his conscience. They were eye witnesses pointing an accusing finger at him, putting his humanity on trial before God as the judge. They were the demons that persecuted his soul.

He had asked Major Lawton for an early pass to go home and visit his family, toying with the idea of never returning to the service. The advanced and extended leave had been granted. During his time off, Felicity had gotten through to him even if he hadn't revealed the details of the reason behind his desire to leave the marines. She hadn't needed to know what happened; all she had needed was to know who he truly was deep down. She had talked him out of quitting the marines and going back on his third tour of duty in China, even as the Second World War had broken out in Europe. His nightmares and his internal struggles had not ceased, and guilt still tormented him from time to time. Nevertheless, knowing that there was someone like Felicity who loved him in spite of everything and who would still be there for him when he returned, Oliver had courageously persevered in the service of his country.

Until the Death March had finally broken him. Thankfully, not beyond hope of ever mending again.

******************************

Tarlac, Central Luzon  
December 1942

From the hills far away, the Green Arrow and his men listen to the faint peals of the church bells. It is the last night of Simbang Gabi. Every devout Filipino in the town nearest them are getting ready for the 4:00 a.m. mass, the last of a series of early morning masses in December. Tomorrow is Christmas Day.

The family of the mayor of that town wrongfully accused of secretly being part of the guerrilla movement, and whom they had rescued from the Kempeitai the other day, can celebrate Christmas knowing that their loved one was now safe somewhere, protected by the guerrillas. An anonymous Filipino informant had tipped off the Japanese, who immediately arrested the mayor in the town hall. The real spy in the town, which was the parish priest, had sent an urgent message to Major Robert Lapham, leader of the guerrilla army forces in Central Luzon. Lapham, in turn, sent Oliver and his archers on the rescue mission, and they had easily accomplished it.

More and more Filipinos have been turning, collaborating with the Japanese in exchange for food, money, protection, or power. Everyone fears the growing number of traitors among the locals because no one really knows who the wolves in sheep's clothing are. There is talk of the Japanese promising land to poor farmers in exchange for intel about the guerrillas.

Worse, there are rumors circulating that the Kempeitai is encouraging locals to form an organized movement based in Manila that would collaborate with them to undermine and overthrow the resistance movement. Unfortunately, the resistance movement in the islands is still segmented, to its detriment and disadvantage, with each region's guerrilla groups still acting mostly independently of one another. Major Lapham and the other leaders of the guerrillas are becoming more and more anxious. An organized network of Filipino spies working for the Japanese will seriously jeopardize the cause of the resistance.

Not if the Green Arrow can help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! Do let me know what you think, and if you're still following this story. Since reviews have become sparse in the last few chapters, I can't help but think that some have stopped reading. Anyways, I am still determined to finished this story despite my busy schedule at work and at home, because this fic is close to my heart.
> 
> For the history and culture "mini lessons" that some of you have expressed you appreciate...
> 
> Pandan - The leaves of this native plant that are usually used to flavor steamed rice and make it more aromatic; it can also be boiled and then taken like hot tea by those who suffer from stomach gas or hyper-acidity. I've tried this for my chronic gastritis and it has a really soothing effect to the stomach.
> 
> Mano - This is the term for the practice of greeting and showing respect to the elderly in Filipino culture. You take one hand of the elderly, lower your head, and bring the back of the person's hand up to touch your forehead. This was the practice that Felicity has imbibed from local culture in this story and did when she greeted Mang Tasyo. It is still practiced widely to this day.
> 
> Simbang Gabi - This is a Filipino tradition observed by most Catholics daily from December 16-24. They wake up early in the morning to attend mass in the local parish between 3:00-5:00 a.m. The last mass on early morning of Christmas Day is called Missa de Gallo (or Rooster's Mass). This tradition is still widely practiced today, as Filipinos are predominantly Roman Catholics.
> 
> From what I read about the guerrilla movement in the Philippines during WWII, Claude Thorp was captured in October 1942 but it wasn't until October 1943 that he was bayoneted to death by the Kempeitai at the Manila North Cemetery. He had been making substantial progress in centralizing the guerrilla operations in the different regions of the huge island of Luzon all the way to the Bicol peninsula, and his untimely death was a big blow to the resistance movement. After his death, more independent guerrilla commands began to develop in the various regions of Luzon. Good thing, other organized guerrilla groups led by unsurrendered/escaped American officers were already in place such as in Central Luzon (Major Robert Lapham), Southern Luzon (Major Bernard Anderson), East-Central Luzon (Col. Edwin Ramsey), and Northern Luzon (Russell Volckmann). Many more groups led by Filipino officers and civilians were active, especially in the regions surrounding Manila, the most notable ones being the Hunters ROTC and the Marking Guerrillas in the Southern Tagalog area, the Hukbalahap in Pampanga province and Pajota's guerrillas in Nueva Ecija province in the Central Luzon area.
> 
> The MAKAPILI, which was an organization of Filipino who were Japanese collaborators (and considered "traitors" by the people) wouldn't be formed until 1944, but I put them into the story a year earlier for my purposes. These traitors were responsible for multiple arrests and capture of Filipino and American guerrillas.
> 
> The most interesting fact I learned from my research is that three of the American guerrilla commanders that had survived the Pacific War - Volckmann, Wendell Fertig (Mindanao, Southern Philippines), and a certain Aaron Bank - later on became co-founders of the U.S. Army Special Forces and had used the guerrilla warfare strategies that they had learned in the bundoks (or mountains, pronounced by most Americans as boondocks) of the Philippines during WWII. Cool, isn't it?


	10. Threats, Losses, and Gains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity spend some time together again after several months, under less than pleasant circumstances. Various threats to the cause of the guerrilla movement surface, and the Green Arrow's team have to deal with losses and gains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to minny16 and Olicitydreamer. Here's where you are both getting something that you asked for. I hope you like it. ;-)

**April 12, 1942**

**Bataan province**

Oliver was on his knees.  Naked, except for his last piece of underwear.  Under the sweltering heat of the noonday sun. 

Tommy and John were also among the other American POWs like him that have been forced to strip and be subjected to what the Japs were calling “sun treatment.”  They had already been baking under direct heat for more than an hour.  Some of the “captives” – as the Japanese guards preferred to call them, instead of calling them prisoners-of-war – had already collapsed on the muddy ground of the banks of the stream due to severe dehydration.  Water was just within reach, but none of the men who still retained consciousness and presence of mind dared to come near it and quench their thirst.  The handful of them that had made the mistake an hour ago had already been shot in the head or in the back, the way cowards executed victims that couldn’t fight back.

“Hang in there,” John whispered to his friends. 

Immediately the blunt end of a rifle landed forcefully on his cheek, as one of the Japanese guards shouted something at him that sounded so dirty and hateful.  John fell face down on the ground, his cheek bloody with a nasty cut inflicted by a cruel enemy.

To Oliver, however, the urge to fight back and defend his fellow marine was the enemy he wrestled with at the time.  John saw it in his eyes, and when their gazes locked, the look on John’s face ardently begged him not to give in to the compulsion to strike the real enemy.

Oliver closed his eyes shut and willed to be transported instead to a different time and place – to the stream at Dearden ranch.  _Their_ stream.  Where he and Felicity had declared their undying love for each other.  When she had promised to wait for him and marry him when the right time comes for them.

He could smell the fragrance of her soft blonde tresses that slightly overpowered the scent of the fresh, green grass where they had lain, his arms wrapped around her slender frame as her body leaned back against him.  He could hear the sound of chirping birds nesting in the tree branch above them.  He listened to the flowing water, swishing and swooshing against the rocks that stood in its path.  And at that moment, no matter how briefly, Oliver escaped the cruel reality of physical torture as he retreated into that fond memory in his mind.

Sadly, his mental escape was short-lived.  Loud sounds of gunshots went off, and when he opened his eyes, more lifeless bodies littered the muddy ground.  With clenched and grinding teeth, Oliver restrained himself from going ballistic and taking on the armed Japanese guards responsible for brutally and unjustly murdering fellow POWs that had caved to heatstroke and extreme dehydration. 

This wasn’t an isolated case of atrocity.  The first one had occurred early on in the Death March when a certain Col. Tsuji had ignored the clear directive of Gen. Homma that POWs be transferred peacefully and clandestinely ordered Japanese officers to summarily execute about 350-400 Filipino officers and non-commissioned officers near the Pantingan River even after they had surrendered.  At the beginning of the march of Oliver’s group of 100 POWs, an American and some Filipinos were also murdered in cold blood during the shakedown.  In the last two days of the March, POWs had been perishing in the ruthless hands of the Japanese, falling like match sticks at the flick of a finger. 

To most of the wounded and the weakened in the March, the physical and mental abuse had been too much to withstand.  The Japanese guards didn’t even have to pull the trigger; some had fallen on their own, unable to stand up and continue the arduous trek, left there to die by the roadside.  Yet others who had become a burden to their fellow POWs and an annoyance to the guards, had been shot or bayoneted to death, and then left for dead.  Merely begging for a drink of water had been a free ticket to hell.  Clean-up crews had come to pick up dead bodies and pile them on military trucks or jeeps, getting rid of the evidences of inhumane acts that made a mockery of the provisions of the Geneva Convention. 

Oliver had committed to photographic memory every atrocious act he had witnessed.  He had also memorized as many names of Japanese guards and officers as he could, and had sworn on the legacy of his fallen compatriots that he would one day testify in a war crimes court if he survives the war.  And although he mourned the terrible loss of POW lives by the stream that day, he was also consumed with rage.

One of the Japanese guards saw the anger and spite on his face and approached him, ready to strike with a rifle.  Just as the Jap lunged at him, Oliver swiftly evaded the attack and caught the end of the man’s rifle with his bare hand, pulling the man down to the ground with it.  Oliver tackled the guard to the ground and punched him repeatedly in the face as soon as he was disarmed.  Two other Japanese guards rushed to aid and abet their fellow guard, and eventually, Oliver was subdued.

The Japanese whom Oliver had initially overpowered, struck, and humiliated bounced back with a vengeance.  The retaliation was harsh.  Oliver’s bare body was beaten until his back was black and blue, and then he was brought to the stream.  Two guards restrained him and repeatedly dunked his head into the water for longer and longer spans of time.  At the last attempt to drown him, Oliver thought that he would soon come face to face with his Creator.  The faces of everyone dear to him, including Felicity, flashed in his mind like moving pictures, and he struggled about whether or not he was ready and willing for his life to end this way, this early.  When he was just about ready to succumb to his fate, the guards pulled him up and then shoved him down to the ground.

Oliver grasped for every breath as he felt his lungs burn inside his chest.  He was too preoccupied with breathing again that he did not hear the Japs laughing, scorning him, and making fun of him.  He rolled on his back and threw his arms open, as his chest heaved heavily.  He didn’t really know if he felt hot because of the scorching heat of the sun, or if he felt cold because of nearly drowning in the stream.  His body quaked and he shivered, perhaps because of the trauma of torture.  Yet, despite the suffering he had endured, Oliver had only one thought: he was grateful to still be alive.

*********************

**June 1943**

**Mt. Arayat, Pampanga province (Central Luzon)**

“Oliver, Oliver!  Hey, it’s okay.  Wake up!” 

He can barely hear it, but the familiar voice of his beloved is clear, and it wakes him from this terrible nightmare.  Still shivering and now covered in sweat, his eyes flit open, and a tender warmth engulfs him as he looks into a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking down at him.

“Felicity?” Oliver whispers, groping for one of her hands.

“I’m here.  It’s okay,” Felicity comforts him.  She gently strokes his sandy blonde hair, which has grown longer in the past several months that he and his small group of archers have been avoiding capture while still going on dangerous (and sometimes very risky) missions to assist guerilla groups in Central Luzon.  “You were just having a bad dream,” she assures him.  “It wasn’t real.”

“It was,” he tells her, wiping the tears that leaked from his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly, tenderly caressing his bearded cheek with her fingers.  She makes a mental note to trim his facial hair when he recovers completely from illness.

Oliver nods affirmatively – which surprises Felicity.  As far back as she can remember, Oliver has always tried to avoid talking about the darkness that he has seen and experienced in combat in the past few years.

She props his head on top of a folded blanket, and then he narrates in detail the horrors and brutalities that he witnessed in the Death March.  At the onset, he struggles to choose his words so as not to scare or repulse her.  But when he sees the inner strength and fortitude reflected outwardly on her features, he carries on with his stories, no holds barred.  When he gets to the part where Tommy is cold-bloodedly killed by the Japanese in front of him and John, he breaks down.  He confesses how utterly helpless he had felt while watching his best friend suffer and die in the hands of cruel men.  He cries and sobs bitterly, in complete abandon in the arms of the woman he loves, the woman who loves him back with the same fervor as his.  Felicity herself weeps for their fallen friend; her empathy brings him much-needed comfort.

When they both recover from their outbursts of grief and sadness, Felicity lays him back down on the sack-covered ground in the make-shift shack where he and his men are currently taking refuge in.  She dips a clean towel into a dented basin filled with water from a nearby creek and wrings it, ready to wipe away the sweat from his face and his body. 

“It’s been more than two days.  No fever.  No convulsions.  It’s a good sign,” she tells him as she continues with her ministrations.  “Do you still feel nauseous?  Any headache?” she asks.

Oliver shakes his head slightly.  “No.  None.”

“Good.  The quinine is working.  I think you’re going to make a full recovery.  Thank God.”  Felicity smiles at him, genuinely thankful that the malaria had not claimed her Oliver like it had claimed one of his trusted men a few days ago.  (Private Rory Regan was a good man, she thought regretfully.  She had met him only once before, and in that brief encounter, she had bonded with him because they both had Jewish backgrounds.)

“But I still had the shivers a while ago,” Oliver says.

Felicity smirks and attempts to tease him, “Oliver, I think the shivering can be blamed on a rather horrific dream, plus the fact that you were crying like a baby in front of a very pretty girl just a few minutes ago.”

Once again, to Felicity’s surprise, her usually broody but favorite marine responds positively to her kidding.  Oliver grins just wide enough for some of his teeth to show. 

“Come here,” he says to her, motioning with his forefinger for her to lean forward towards him.  He sits up to meet her halfway, simultaneously taking the towel from her hand and dropping it into the basin beside him.  He places his hand behind her neck and pulls her in for a chaste kiss.  The kiss is sweet and soft and slow, but he lets it linger, brushing his lips against hers as he wraps his other arm around her waist to draw her in, closer to his chest.

When they pull away, he says to her, “Thank you for coming, Felicity.  You have not only saved my life for the nth time.  You have also saved my men from being wiped out by this dreadful disease.” 

“You’re welcome.  You know I’m always here to help, especially if it’s you asking.  I support this cause just as much as you do, and I’m glad I can actually do something that matters in the midst of this entire… mess,” Felicity tells him.  “It’s been difficult, but it’s really fulfilling to be making a difference somehow… especially because I’m doing it with you.”  She smiles earnestly and gives him a peck on the nose. 

Truth be told, he feels thankful in a way that he had gotten sick, in the sense that she had gotten a reasonable opportunity to leave the clinic and see him.  In the last eight months since his twilight visit when she had patched him up at the clinic, he had only seen her once, albeit from afar.  It has been increasingly difficult and risky for guerilla fighters to come down from the mountains where most of their hideouts and secret meeting places are, ever since the Kempeitai started clamping down on the resistance movement, deploying spies from among the Filipinos themselves.  The Green Arrow had only been spotted once in the area near Orani, but he hadn’t had the chance to actually go to the clinic because the town was swarming with Japanese patrols that day. 

On one humid summer afternoon, after a successful surveillance and intel gathering mission the night before with Rene Ramirez and the right-hand man of Major Lapham himself, Oliver had taken a calculated risk just to see Felicity.  He had missed her so much!  He shed his Green Arrow clothes and disguised himself in long-sleeved clothes and a bandana-covered head underneath a wide-rimmed _salakot_ , as a farmer delivering organic fertilizer to Mang Tasyo’s general store.  The foul smell of the manure in his cart kept the locals at bay, including a handful of Japanese patrols stationed at the town hall.  When he got to the store, he saw her saying goodbye to an old man (whom he presumed to be her friend Mang Tasyo) at the doorway.  Oliver was about to approach Felicity when two Filipinas emerged from inside the store carrying bags of supplies.  The three women had immediately thanked Mang Tasyo and left, going in the direction of the clinic where they lived.  Oliver had no choice but to just follow them and watch _her_ from afar.  The two other young women, whom he presumed were Felicity’s companions at the clinic, had gone inside already, but for some reason, Felicity lingered at the door, removing the bandana on her head slowly.  She then turned around and panned her surroundings, seemingly looking for someone or something.  She waited for about a minute before she smiled and turned to go inside.  The smile that Oliver had seen on Felicity’s face that day made him tremendously happy, much like how he had felt when he opened his presents on Christmas morning as a little boy.  He had thought it peculiar, but he was convinced that she must have sensed his presence and flashed that smile for him to see – wherever he was concealing himself that afternoon.

It’s the same winsome, refreshing smile that is on her face now, but the happiness fades from her face sooner than he would have liked.  

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner to save Rory,” Felicity says in a rather sad, apologetic tone.

Oliver doesn’t give her any room for guilt-tripping.  He isn’t willing to let that smile fade completely from his beloved’s face.  “Hey, it’s not your fault,” he immediately comforts her.  “Rory’s symptoms had gotten worse by the time we realized what we were up against.  The men and I were still debating whether or not we should ask you to come and bring quinine and treat him, since bringing him down to the clinic is dangerous and out of the question.  But when I started showing symptoms, Rene insisted that he and Francisco take the risk and fetch you immediately.  You couldn’t have come sooner, because the guys had to take you through the longer route to avoid checkpoints to reach this place safely.  It takes a few days to get here on foot that way.”  He kisses her forehead and adds, “So, stop blaming yourself.”

Felicity nods in acquiescence.  She squeezes his hand to let him know that she understood his valid point.  She just feels defeated that she had lost a patient.  Since the Japanese occupation started more than a year ago, she had lost only two patients to malaria.  One had been an infant, while the other an elderly man.  Now, it’s Rory.  Felicity still feels like she had struck out at three.  The feeling makes her uneasy.  Her mind understands that none of it is her fault, but her heart is lagging behind in coming to terms with the loss.

She decides to change the subject for the time being and asks, “How do you think you and your men contracted the disease?”

“Based on the incubation period you described between the insect bites and when symptoms begin to show, I’d say it would have to be when Lapham asked us to do the reconnaissance mission in a town very near the Candaba Swamp,” Oliver explains.  “We heard from the locals that the town had had an outbreak there when the war broke out.  People say that the swamp is a breeding ground for the mosquitoes that carry the disease-causing parasites.”

“So, why did you still go if you knew the risk?” Felicity asks.

“We had to,” Oliver replies.  “There are reports of a fairly reasonable threat to the resistance.”

“What kind of threat?” she asks again.

Oliver is silent for a moment or two.  Once again, he doesn’t want to frighten her, but he answers her anyway because he knows that she does not like it when he keeps her hanging.  He also knows that she’s stronger than she looks.  Felicity Smoak can handle the truth.

“The sword-wielding kind,” he replies, his forehead crinkling as he speaks.  He then explains further, “Our informants in Manila have sent word that a foreigner who goes by the codename Deathstroke has allied himself with the Japanese and the MAKAPILI to identify, pursue, and eliminate known guerrilla fighters and leaders in Luzon.  Rumor has it, the mysterious guy wears a black-and-orange mask and uses a Japanese _katana_ , his weapon of choice, to terrorize and torture suspected guerrilla spies and to execute captured guerrilla leaders.”

“So, it _is_ true…” Felicity thinks out loud, her brain processing previously and presently obtained information.

“You’ve heard about this, too?” Oliver verifies curiously.

Felicity nods to confirm.  “Yes, I believe I have.  Barry came for a visit last month.”

Oliver winces slightly at the mention of her good friend’s name, but he reminds herself that she and Barry are really just good friends and colleagues and nothing more.  (She and Oliver had ironed out that issue way back when Dr. Allen’s Red Cross team, which Felicity was a part of, was still based in California.)  Felicity picks up on his body language and is quick to respond, before his deceitful feelings of jealousy win over reason.

“Barry personally delivered medicines to the clinic from ANRC headquarters in Manila,” she tells him whilst rubbing her palm up and down his arm in soothing motions.  “He brought both good news and bad.  The good news is that he was able to bring more quinine safely through the checkpoints without the Japanese seizing them.  They’ve been hoarding quinine whenever they can, for their prison camps where there are multiple cases of malaria.” 

“The bad news is…”  She then stops, drying the corners of her eyes from the tears that are threatening to fall.  After a sniffle, she breaks the unpleasant truth.  “The bad news is that his girlfriend Iris West, a journalist with the BBC, had gone missing the month prior.  Barry is positive that it had something to do with her investigations about the spies and Japanese collaborators working for the MAKAPILI.  He’s already appealed to law enforcement for help and had done a little sleuthing himself, but every lead has brought him to a dead end.  That’s when he mentioned the Japanese samurai ninja guy.”

“It’s a _katana_ ,” Oliver corrects her with a smirk.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to tell the difference,” she defends herself, slapping his arm lightly.  “Anyways, according to Barry, no one knows who this person is.  His name and origin are a mystery.  All Barry knows so far is that he isn’t Japanese, and that the Kempeitai now considers him their secret weapon against the guerrilla movement.”

“And that is why we took on the mission near Candaba Swamp,” Oliver brings the conversation back to where they started.  “Unfortunately, the little information we gathered only confirmed the existence of this Deathstroke.  We didn’t find out anything specific about his whereabouts, except that he has left Manila for Central Luzon to eliminate the targets on the guerrilla hit list that the Kempeitai had given him.  A list that includes the Green Arrow and his men.”

Felicity bites her lower lip as she considers what he just said.  “That’s not good.”

“No, not at all,” Oliver answers, shaking his head.

********************

After a few more days under Felicity’s watchful care, Oliver is symptom-free, and there is every indication that he is indeed on the road to full recovery.  The two other archers, who had contracted malaria and showed symptoms at about the same time he did, are doing better.  Soon Oliver is able to move about, and then to resume sparring and target practice with his men.  After a long talk, Felicity agrees with him that it is time for her to return to the Red Cross clinic in Orani, with him and Rene as her chaperons.  Along the way, they would try to figure out a way to explain her extended absence to Auring and Gloria, and to anyone who asks.

Just as she is getting ready to leave, Francisco Ramon runs a high fever.  Within the next 48 hours, he manifests the same symptoms that were observed in Oliver and his men, only, Francisco’s symptoms seem worse.  His abdomen is slightly enlarged, and instead of mere uncontrolled shivering, the young man convulses more violently and more frequently than the others had.  Felicity is worried for their dear Filipino friend.  This time, Oliver agrees with her that she needs to stay longer for Francisco’s sake.

*********************

There is a slight downpour on the eastern side of Mt. Arayat where the temporary hideout of Oliver’s band of archers is located.  Felicity holds a giant banana leaf over her head to shield her from the rain as she darts from Francisco’s make-shift shed to Oliver’s shack.   “We’re running out of quinine,” Felicity informs Oliver as she enters.  “Kiko is not going to make it through the coming days with what we have left.”  She is calm and composed, but still Oliver senses the worry that she is trying so hard to mask.

Oliver puts down the improvised arrowhead he is sharpening with a switchblade.  He looks up at her and purses his lips tight as he thinks about a reasonable yet immediate course of action.  “Do you know where we can get some more?” he asks.

Felicity gives it some thought, and then she answers, “We still had some at the clinic, but I don’t know if Auring and Gloria have had to use some for patients since I left.  And Orani is quite far from here.  I don’t think Kiko will last that long until you get back if you go there.”  She looks at Oliver with deep concern.  “Even if Orani is close by, I won’t send you or Rene down into town to get it.  You’ll blow your cover by going to the clinic, and I don’t want Auring or Gloria to be involved.  If I go back to retrieve the quinine myself and pass it along to you, there’s no coming back here for me to help Kiko.”

After a while of thought, Oliver asks again, hoping for a different answer, “Is there really nowhere else we can find some?”

“Manila.  For sure.  There’s bound to be quinine in the hospitals there.  But getting in and out of a big city swarming with Japanese troops is mission impossible.  You know that, right?  Barry says you never know who to trust there.”

Oliver knows she’s right.  Not even the Green Arrow and his team of guerrilla archers can pull off a mission like that in a Japanese-infested city without back-up.  Small factions of guerrillas don’t stand a chance against the Japanese forces stationed in the country’s capital.  But he isn’t about to give up on Kiko Ramon.  Oliver is not willing for Aling Elena to lose the only family she has left, but they are running out of options fast.

As he sat quietly on the ground, Oliver is interrupted in his musings by the gentle touch of a familiar hand landing on his knee.  He realizes that Felicity is already seated on the ground beside him in quite an awkward position; her legs are folded on one side, causing her skirt to ride up her thighs.  For a little while he gets distracted by the delightful sight and he forgets the pressing matter at hand.  When he realizes this, he makes a mental note to get her to wear a pair of pants (as soon as his men can find her one that fits).  The skirts she’s been wearing since she arrived are just not suitable for the mountains, and he really doesn’t need distractions like this when he’s supposed to be thinking about saving lives.

“Oliver, I think I have an idea,” Felicity tells him, her hand still on his knee.

“Let’s hear it,” Oliver says, diverting his eyes away from the distraction and focusing them on her face.

“Remember what I told you Barry had mentioned?  If the Japs are just as desperate to get their hands on quinine because of malaria outbreaks in their prison camps that they’re confiscating supplies, then don’t you think that’s where we’ll find some?” she asks, but the tone of her voice tells him that this is really a suggestion.  Her widened eyes are proof that the lightbulb just went on in her head.

He immediately picks up where she’s going with this, and says, “The prison camps in Central Luzon are in Nueva Ecija, the next province from here.  The nearest one is just a few miles northeast, just across the border between Pampanga and Nueva Ecija.  It’s closer to our position than Orani, which is miles away southwest of our position.”  He squeezes her hand, a gesture that tells her he approves of her brilliant idea. 

“I’ll go talk to the guys,” Oliver tells her as he stands and places his hands on her shoulder.  “Felicity, you are remarkable.”

“Thank you for remarking on it,” she responds as he walks away.

***********************

The rest of the day is spent strategizing and planning.  Oliver and his men figure out the best way to scout the perimeter of the internment camp for the best and least conspicuous access point on the first night, to determine where the infirmary is located the following morning, and to penetrate the chosen entry point at midnight on the second night by taking out the sentries there without attracting attention.  Lance Corporal Roy Harper – an unsurrendered US Army officer, and the only remaining American in Oliver’s team – is to lead the two other scouts and to report back to Oliver at the rendezvous point. 

Oliver clarifies that this is not a rescue mission, and that their sole purpose is to secure the needed medicine and nothing else.  He specifically instructs his men that – no matter how tempting it may be to attempt to set the POWs free once they successfully breach the camp – they should not veer away from the plan.  Under no circumstance are they supposed to provoke or engage the enemy who, most likely, outnumber them ten to one, especially since they do not have the advantage of back-up from another guerrilla group at the moment.

Early the next morning, the Green Arrow and only five of his six men gear up and push northeast of Mt. Arayat into Nueva Ecija province.  (Rene had volunteered the day before to be the one to stay and protect Felicity and Francisco from any threat in the absence of the archers.)  Oliver hugs Felicity before they leave, promising to bring back the medicine they need as soon as possible.

The Green Arrow successfully secures the needed medicines.  On the evening of the third day, he returns unscathed, but with only four of the men he’d brought with him on the mission.  Oliver tells Rene that one of their comrades, who was an escaped Filipino POW, had died a hero, sacrificing himself to allow the rest of them to elude capture by putting himself between them and the barrage of bullets from a powerful machine gun. 

They are saddened by the loss, but they also celebrate a victory.  Not only have they obtained the quinine to save Francisco’s life; they have also gained another brother-at-arms.  They returned to their mountain hideout with one prisoner who had unexpectedly and providentially aided them in their mission by showing them an alternate escape route when they were trapped in the infirmary and surrounded by Japanese guards.

As soon as Felicity hears their voices, she comes out of Francisco’s shed, and the first person that greets her – much to her relief – is an unharmed Oliver.  She runs into his arms and kisses him senseless, unmindful of everyone else around them.  “You came back!” she exclaims after they part.

Oliver smiles down at her and nods.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Did you get it?” she asks enthusiastically.

“Yes, there’s enough quinine in Roy’s bag,” he replies, his smile widening into a grin.  “But it’s not all that we’ve brought back…”  Oliver turns her around in his arms for her to see.  “Look who’s here.”

“Hello, Felicity,” the tall, dark, and handsome man greets her.

Felicity’s jaw drops.  Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline in awestruck wonder.  The man looks haggard and a little thinner than she remembers him, but she immediately recognizes her dear friend.  All she can utter in absolute incredulity is…

“John…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter, especially when I got to the parts where I was able to put in additional members of Team Arrow, as well as a particular villain that complicates the already complicated situation of the war. Also, the prospect of reuniting the OTA was simply thrilling! I hope you feel the same way, and I hope you like the direction the story is taking. More to come next update! Do let me know what you think of this chapter.
> 
> Based on my readings, the army nurses (and most likely the Red Cross staff and volunteers in the field at the time) had to deal with a number of illnesses among patients during the course of the war and the Japanese occupation. Aside from battle wounds and war-related injuries, dysentery and malaria were the most common diseases at the time. Back then, perhaps the most common and most available cure for malaria was quinine. Malaria is a disease that affects humans and animals that are bitten by female Anopheles mosquitoes. The insect bite introduces parasitic protozoans into the bloodstream through which they travel to the liver and attack it. Symptoms of the disease include fever, fatigue, vomiting, headaches, and in severe cases, yellowing of the skin, enlargement of the abdomen, seizures or convulsions, coma, and even death. Malaria is common in tropical and subtropical regions, in countries near the equator - like the Philippines. During WWII, it was a serious problem - especially in the prison camps - perhaps because of the lack of medicines and medical attention given to those who became infected. Chloroquine is used to treat malaria patients, but for those who are resistant to this medicine, quinine can be used.


	11. A Twisted Sense of Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Green Arrow's team splinters as the Japanese hunt them down after the prison camp break-in. Things go from bad to worse. Another new character is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, please don't hate me for this. Be reminded that this is a historical war fic, and I'm only trying my best to portray thru creative fiction some real life events and experiences. And since war is cruel, expect mean stuff to get in the way of our couple's HEA, which is why it took me a longer time and much emotional anguish to write this chapter, even if it has been part of the plot plan from the very beginning. Honestly, I didn't know what I was getting into until I started really doing my homework.
> 
> Secondly, this chapter is another reason why this story is rated T. It explores a very difficult, painful, yet real life issue involving violence. It is very sad, but it is very real. I have tried my best to use language that is not as graphic in keeping with the rating, BUT if just the thought or mention of violence against women is a trigger for you, please feel free to skip portions that make you uncomfortable, or skip the rest of the chapter after the third section break (and the next chapter update as well). You have been warned. 
> 
> I hope that this poignant chapter moves you towards making a firm stand for justice and human dignity.

**_June 1943_ **

**_Mt. Arayat, Pampanga (Central Luzon)_ **

Oliver and his men were ready for the mission to obtain quinine from the infirmary of the Japanese prison camp located near the border between Pampanga and Nueva Ecija provinces.  Their original plan had been rehashed and reworked when Lance Corporal Roy Harper returned to their meeting place with valuable information after scouting the perimeter of the camp with two other guys on the team.  What Oliver and the team had not anticipated was the guard dog being repositioned with a lone sentry from its designated station at the main gate during the day, to their intended exit from the infirmary at midnight.  The incessant barking of the dog gave them away even before they were finished getting some quinine from the medicine cabinet and picking up a few other needed first aid supplies.

The wheels in Oliver’s head were still turning – trying to figure out the safest way to bring his team out, now that the Japanese guards have been alerted by the annoying canine – when a tall, well-built man came out of the shadows and appeared at the door of the small, cramped pharmacy.

“Follow me if you want to get out of here alive,” the man had said in his low, gruff voice.

At the sound of that voice, Oliver and his men instantly raised their bows and pointed arrows straight at the stranger.  The man raised his hands in surrender and took one slow, careful step forward, and when moonlight shining through the only window in the room hit his face, Oliver realized that the stranger wasn’t really a threat but an ally.

“John?” Oliver had asked.  He couldn’t believe his eyes.  He had thought that he would never see his friend again after what happened in the Death March.

There had been no time for a melancholic reunion.  As soon as the team got what they had needed and found, John had swiftly and ably led them through another way of escape – one that led them through the rear side of the prison barracks where the POWs were kept.  As they ran, some of the prisoners had leapt out of their bunkers and peeked out the windows, wondering what the commotion was all about and talking in hushed voices.  Oliver had felt a heavy load of regret weighing down on his back as he ran, leaving probably hundreds of POWs behind, but he knew that liberating those men that had watched them flee that night would be a battle for another day – a battle that he, his men, and his allies in the resistance movement would make sure they’d win.  Gen. MacArthur’s words rang in his ears, and as he ran, he spoke almost the exact same words to the men peering through the window of the last barracks they passed, “We will return.”

The alternate escape route John had led them through was shorter, and they temporarily evaded the Japanese guards that were already hot on their trail.  However, John had told them that there was danger waiting at the end, since they would have to cross an open field of about thirty meters to get to the rear egress into the woods – an open field where they would definitely be spotted by the sentries at the watchtower.  They had had no choice but to make a run for it, with Oliver and Roy providing cover with their bows and arrows.  When they started to dash across the field, the sentries immediately saw them, and aimed the machine gun at the fleeing team.  But Oliver and Roy were faster.  Two green bamboo arrows easily found their way into their targets, one on each Japanese chest. 

Oliver had winced when the fatal shots caused the Japanese sentries in the tower to fall headlong onto the ground.  Since he had donned the hood of the Green Arrow to join the resistance, he had been shooting at the enemy only to wound, not kill, and that was how he had trained his men.  He’d had enough encounters with violence and death to last him a lifetime, and one of the things he had promised himself the day he decided to pick up his bow again and fight was that he would never kill again unless it was absolutely necessary.  This particular situation, however, had been a matter of life and death – the enemies’ or theirs. There was no choice to make.

John and the archers would have made it safely across the field and through the barbed-wired exit without casualty if not for the Japanese guards that had closed in behind them, bearing another high-powered machine gun, ready to shoot at them.  That was when one of their Filipino comrades made the heroic choice to cling to the barbed wires and block the narrow passageway with his own body, so that no one else would get hurt or die, and to bide more time for them to get away.  By the time the Japanese had crossed the field, pried the man’s body off of the barbed wires, and cleared the exit, Oliver, John, and his team had managed to put a safe distance between them and their pursuers, who initially had no clue as to where they had gone.

* * *

“How did you know they were there?” Felicity asks her good friend John, whom she still can’t believe had made it through the Death March alive.

John Diggle shrugs, rubbing the sable skin of his face with his pale palms.  “I didn’t.”  He pauses, thinking for a moment, and then he pushes on.  “More and more POWs have been contracting malaria, and the poor sanitation conditions aren’t helping.  The Japs have been getting their hands on quinine for the camps, sometimes by illegally confiscating deliveries from Manila.” 

Felicity simply nods her head, remembering the information that Dr. Barry Allen had already shared with her before.  She can tell that John has more to say. 

“The Japs badly need not just medicines.  They need medical assistance, so a few prisoners who have medical know-how have been forced to lend a hand.  They put me in charge of the clinic several months ago when they learned I had medical training.  I went back to the infirmary to make sure the other guy on night duty had locked it securely.  I… I didn’t expect Oliver and his men to be there at all.  But… I’m sure glad that they were.” 

John buries his face in his hands.  He isn’t distraught.  He weeps because he is grateful beyond words that he’s freer now than he has ever been for more than a year.  The stories of cruelty and suffering in the march and in the camps will never be forgotten, but he has to forego telling those stories for another day.  Although he is now a fugitive like Oliver and his men, he won’t exchange it with another day inside the camps.  He is happy to be free from the enemy’s clutches and happy to see his dear friends again.

Felicity places her hand on John’s shoulder to comfort him.  When he stills from his silent sobbing, she tells him, “We’re happy to have you back, John.  Thank God you’re alive.”

John lifts his head and wipes his tears away.  “Yeah, me too.  But the others…”

“We’ll free them, John,” says Oliver.  “We’ll find a way.  If not in the near future with the help of other guerrillas, then as soon as the troops return.  They’ll be back for us.  Semper fi.”

Oliver and Felicity put their friend up to speed with what’s been happening outside of the prison.  They told him about the growing guerrilla movement in various regions, about how the US forces in Australia are maintaining communications and are receiving intel from the islands, and about how the Kempeitai have tapped Filipino allies among the MAKAPILI organization to sell out their own countrymen in order to bring down the resistance movement.  Oliver recounts how his group of archers was formed and how they provide assistance to the guerrilla forces led by both the Americans and Filipinos in Central and Eastern Luzon.  Felicity also tells of how she has been helping the movement in more subtle, inconspicuous ways through the Red Cross clinic.

After much thought and a few hours of rest, Oliver gathers his men to talk about a crucial matter weighing on his heart.

“We can’t stay on this mountain together.  The Japanese will track us and hunt us down in retaliation, and they won’t stop until they find us.  Now that we’ve gotten at least a few hours of rest, I think it’s best for everyone if we break up into splinter groups.  Temporarily.  We’ll go separate ways from here, and then meet up at Major Lapham’s base in two days, or three at the most.  If we don’t see you on the third day at the latest, we will assume that you’ve been intercepted and captured,” Oliver suggests.  He could have also said “killed,” but he does not want to verbalize the worst-case scenario.

“Agreed,” Rene Ramirez responds.

“But what about Francisco?  Is he well enough to move from here?” Roy Harper asks Felicity.

“I think he’ll make it if we move now.  He hasn’t had the next bout of fevers and shivers yet.  It’s been a couple of days.  If we make it down to the other side of the mountain to a safer place where we can find food and clean water, I don’t see any problem,” she replies.

 _We_.  Oliver knows her heart will break when he tells her that she’s not coming with them.  He has to break the news to her as gently as he can, because knowing her, he’s sure she won’t like it.

“Guys, could you give us a second please?” Oliver requests his men.

“Sure,” John answers.

When the men leave Oliver’s make-shift shack, and he is sure they aren’t within hearing distance, Oliver speaks to his girl. 

“Felicity…”

“I know what you’re going to say.  If you’re going to tell me that there is no _we_ coming down this mountain, then don’t waste your breath because I don’t want to hear it,” Felicity tells him firmly.  “But I’m also not going to argue with you.”

Oliver frowns, unsure of where she’s going with this line of thinking.  Is she angry, resentful that once again he’s sending her away?  Is she finally resigning herself to the bitter reality that the two of them are really not meant to be?  He hopes she’s not losing hope.  He hopes she can hold on a little longer.

“I won’t fight you over this… because I trust you,” she declares, her eyes intense but full of faith.

Oliver is taken by pleasant surprise at her words, and his heart swells within him.  _She trusts him._   It is the best thing he’s heard from her in all the years they’ve been together – well, next to “I love you,” of course.

“Thank you,” Oliver tells her.  He sighs, realizing he has been holding his breath.  “It means a lot… knowing that you trust me.  It gives me something to hold on to… until we see each other again.  I hope you understand that this is not about not trusting you.  It’s about keeping you safe.”

Felicity smiles at him and touches his stubbled face.  (She thinks his scruff looks better now after she helped trim it a few days ago just as she had intended.)  The gesture is full of affection and tenderness, and it makes him close his eyes and bask in the moment.  (He thinks her once-flawless and smooth palms have become a bit rougher than he remembers, but her touch has become even more tender and comforting, too.)

“What do you want me to do?” she asks him.

“The Japs aren’t going to stop until they get us, Felicity.  I can’t have you with us while we’re on-the-run.  It’s safer for you to go back to the clinic carefully, without attracting much attention.  I’ll have you escorted by my two best men.”

She nods and squeezes his hand.  He pulls her into his chest and with an embrace lets her know how much he’s going to miss her.

* * *

Within the next hour, Oliver’s team disperses through various routes.  He and John take Francisco with them on a shorter, more direct route north to Major Lapham’s base.  Roy and another Filipino archer head west, taking a longer route by circling the mountain.  Oliver sends Felicity southwest, back to Orani, escorted by Rene and the best Filipino archer on the team, Simon Ibarra.  Of the three splinter groups, Rene and Simon will take the longest time to make it to Lapham’s base because they have to make the farthest trek, avoiding all the checkpoints by going through as much wooded areas on the plains of Central Luzon as they can.

The only other member of the team – a Filipino by the name of Edilberto – insists on going east, taking the risk of heading back towards Nueva Ecija where their Japanese pursuers are coming from, just so that he can sneak into his hometown and pay his family a quick visit before pushing northwest to rendezvous with them.  Despite Oliver’s hesitation, the man is resolute, saying that he may not get another chance to see his family.  He says he is not afraid to die for his country, but if he meets the same demise soon (as his comrade had in the prison camp), then taking the risk to see his wife and son is a cost he is willing pay. 

Oliver understands.  The seventh member of his team had given his life the day before at the prison camp for them to escape.  That man had nothing to lose since he had no family left, but this daring one had a wife and son.  Oliver himself had risked going into Orani disguised as a farmer just to see Felicity more than once before, when he had to move farther and farther away from her.  So, he lets Edilberto go on his own way, hoping that the man will make it to Lapham’s base safely at the agreed time.

Oliver, John, and Francisco reach Lapham’s base the next day.  Major Lapham is relieved to see them alive, saying that news of the prison camp break-in had reached them through trusted spies in Nueva Ecija.  They had learned that one of the archers had perished in what was supposed to be a clean, covert mission, and Lapham had hoped that the casualty was not the Green Arrow himself. 

Major Lapham calls for a meeting with Oliver and the leaders of his guerrilla group.  They discuss the threat of the growing number of MAKAPILI spies that are working for the Kempeitai.  More importantly, they discuss the Kempeitai’s secret weapon – the Westerner who calls himself Deathstroke, the executioner of guerilla fighters whom the Japanese are now hailing as their champion.  Oliver points out that it will be very difficult to eliminate this threat when they do not even know who he is, why he is helping the Japanese, and where he will strike next.  The Major dismisses the men, instructing them to come up with a plausible strategy to address this dilemma and to be ready to meet again to discuss courses of action in two days.

Roy Harper and his Filipino companion make it to the base on the evening of the second day – tired, thirsty, and hungry.  They had tried to avoid roads and Japanese checkpoints along the way, and there had been no time or safe chance to go into the towns to find food and drink.  They had only come across one stream and had drunk from it, and although they had seen plenty of edible foliage and root crops along the way, they had had no time to stop and cook, so they had simply picked ripe Indian mangoes from a few trees they had passed.

The lone Filipino archer that had gone eastward to visit his family would never make it to the base, just as Oliver feared.

At dusk on the third day, Rene Ramirez reaches the base, but with grim news – the kind that Oliver feared the most, and prayed every day would never happen. 

* * *

As soon as Rene sees and recognizes Oliver from afar, he runs towards his leader, almost stumbling as he grabs hold of Oliver’s sleeve.

“They took her, Lieut. Queen!  They took Ms. Smoak!” Rene utters desperately in between heavy panting.  His limbs are shaking and his face is a total wreck.  He’d been running for more than a day.

Oliver grabs Rene by the shoulders.  “Who?  Who took her?” Oliver asks, anxiety and agitation suddenly taking hold of him.

“The Kempeitai!” Rene answers.

“What happened?!” Oliver asks again, this time anger rising within him. 

“They… they were already in front of the clinic… arresting one of the volunteers… by the time Ms. Smoak arrived.  We… we were watching her from a safe distance… to make sure she gets there safe.  Ms. Smoak seemed to be questioning the arrest, demanding some kind of warrant.  But another woman… a Filipina wearing a _bayong_ on her head… she came out from inside the clinic and pointed at Ms. Smoak.  She must have told the Kempeitai to arrest her too!”  Rene’s voice trembles, just as his hands on Oliver’s arms do.  “That woman knew, sir!  Somehow she knows Ms. Smoak works with guerrillas.  She’s MAKAPILI, a traitor to her people!  And she just handed Ms. Smoak and the other girl over to the Japs!”

“Where were they taken?” Oliver asks, his voice low and almost garbled, slipping out of his mouth between gritted, clenched teeth.

Rene replies, “Simon and I followed them from afar as best we can.  The Kempeitai brought them to the Japanese outpost in Orani, for interrogation maybe.  But I fear they won’t be there for long.  Simon disguised himself as a drunk and lingered near the outpost.  When he returned to our meeting place, he told me that he overheard the Japs talking.  From the little that he could understand, he suspects two things.  First, they couldn’t seem to get any information from Ms. Smoak or her friend.  Second, there was talk of bringing them to something called the _Tai-i_.  But we don’t know what or where that is.”

“The _Tai-i_ is Japanese for captain,” Major Lapham interrupts the intense conversation between Oliver and Rene.  He’d been listening in the sidelines, but he feels the need to join in and clarify things.  Lapham understands the repercussions of Felicity’s arrest and knows more things about the Kempeitai than Oliver or his men.  “The _Tai-i_ is the head of a _buntai_ , which is a section of the Kempeitai made up of 65 men and has command of about 65 other troops.  I am not aware of a detachment that large anywhere in Central Luzon, so I can only speculate that the _Tai-i_ is probably just visiting the smaller detachments in the area called the _bunkentai_.  The _bunkentai_ detachment that is nearest Orani, Bataan is in San Fernando, Pampanga,” Lapham explains.  His voice and his face are laced with concern.

Oliver picks up on that, and the worry he senses in the higher-ranking officer adds to the burden on his shoulder that is getting heavier by the second.

“When did they leave Orani?  And where is Simon Ibarra?” Oliver asks Rene.

“We saw a convoy of Kempeitai jeeps leave the police outpost headed east the next morning – that was yesterday morning,” answers Rene.

“That was more than 36 hours ago.  If they had gone to San Fernando, they would be there by now,” Lapham says.

“I’m sorry, Oliver,” Rene apologizes regretfully.  “Simon and I tried… but there was just too many of them.  We couldn’t take them on with just bows and arrows, and we certainly could not outrun jeeps.  Simon and I agreed to separate.  I would come here and get help.  He would continue to follow the convoy on foot, in the direction they had taken, and try to see if he can find out where they might have taken Felicity and her friend.  If the Major is right and they are in San Fernando, then that’s where Simon would most likely end up.”

Oliver knows that time is of the essence.  36 hours has been a long time.  Who knows what the Japs are doing to Felicity and her friend right this minute?  He doesn’t even want to think about it; he just wants to shoot every arrow in his quiver at the first Japanese soldier he sees.  Oliver understands the urgency of the situation, and he fights the demons that are filling his mind with gruesome possibilities of what might befall his beloved.    

“We have to leave now!” he exclaims.  “We need to go and get them before--”

“Lieutenant Queen, taking on a _bunkentai_ in a heavily guarded detachment is no joke,” Major Lapham reasons with Oliver.  “We’ve never even attempted anything like it, not even to rescue a captured guerrilla from our ranks.  Because we will definitely be outnumbered and outgunned.  A _bunkentai_ is commanded by three officers and about 20 troops, and if the _Tai-i_ is traveling with his men, there will definitely be more.  What you want to attempt is not a rescue mission.  It’s a suicide mission.”

“Call it what you want, Major, but this is my girl we’re talking about.  She and her friend are civilians!  Red Cross personnel!! We can’t just stand here and do nothing!!!” Oliver raises his voice at the higher-ranking officer.  He realizes this and calms down a bit.  “Sir, if you’re not willing to take the risk, I am.  And I will take my archers with me if they’re willing to do it.”

“We are,” John Diggle interjects, nodding at Rene and then at Roy, who both nod in affirmation.

“Sir, with all due respect,” Roy intervenes, “Ms. Smoak has done so much for the resistance.  She’s saved so many lives, and not just civilians but also many from our ranks.  She’s risked her convenience, her name, her safety, and sometimes even her life just to pass on intel and to keep the secrets of the guerrillas in the region.  Maybe it’s time we pay back those favors.”

“And what’s to say she hasn’t been tortured, hasn’t already given up valuable secrets of the guerrilla movement?” Lapham points out.

“Sir, the mere fact that the Kempeitai had to bring them to the _bunkentai_ means that they haven’t broken them yet.  They haven’t killed them, too.  There must be a reason they’re keeping them alive,” John adds more sternly.  “I can’t speak for her Filipino friend, but I’ve known Felicity Smoak for many, many years, and I can vouch for _her_ loyalty and strength of will.  She may look fragile but her heart and her will are as solid as steel.  She’ll never sell out her friends and her allies.  She’s a true-blooded patriot who’s willing to die for…”

John’s voice slowly fades.  He knows with all his heart that Felicity has it in her to lay down her life for what she believes in and for the people she cares most about.  But he can’t say the words.  He refuses to say them out loud.  He swallows the imaginary lump that’s lodged in his throat.  John is also aware that the reality of what he has just said hits a sensitive cord in Oliver’s heart.  If it’s too painful for him to come to terms with, he knows it would be twice as unbearable for his friend.

Oliver can’t bring himself to even consider Felicity sacrificing herself to keep the Green Arrow and the secrets of the guerrillas safe from the Kempeitai.  Like John, he knows it might come to that.  Like her, Oliver, too, is willing to give his life for the cause.  Her courage and patriotism are among the qualities he admires most about his girl.  What he is really afraid of is something more horrifying than Felicity dying in the hands of the Japanese – it’s her suffering in the brutal hands of the enemy while she’s still alive that he is most frightened of.

* * *

During his deployment and missions in China just before the Pacific War broke out, Oliver had heard of terrible stories of violence against helpless women by the Japanese – wives, mothers, women, even girls as young as 13 or 14.  Because of the poverty brought about by war and constant political unrest, many Chinese and Japanese women had been enticed to work in factories – deceived, rather, because they usually ended up in brothels or “comfort stations,” forced to work as sex slaves to the Japanese imperial army.  The 4th Marines had also heard that the same things have happened in Korea. 

Unfortunately, it has been happening in the Philippines as well since the Japanese took control of the major islands and regions and the capital city.  Oliver and his men have heard awful stories from villagers in the various towns and cities they’ve been to.  Filipino women who have been arrested have been raped.  Girls have been taken from their families, sometimes just randomly stopped at checkpoints at the whim of ravenous soldiers; they are taken to Japanese garrisons and abused repeatedly – night after night, for weeks, sometimes months – by multiple soldiers who only want to satisfy their needs by treating innocent, helpless civilians like animals instead of human beings deserving of dignity.  Sometimes, these girls don’t make it back to their homes at all, and their families never know if they’re still alive somewhere or are already dead. 

Oliver and his men had, at one time, rescued a handful of abused girls from the Japanese in Mapaniqui, Pampanga, a village just 50 miles north of Manila that had been attacked, looted, and razed by the Japanese.  The Green Arrow’s team had taken on the challenge because of the desperate plea of one of his men (the one that had sacrificed his life later on the night they took quinine from the prison camp in Nueva Ecija).  The poor man’s only daughter had been among those that had been taken to service the Japanese soldiers.  Sadly, his 15-year-old daughter hadn’t been among those who had been rescued by the archers from the Red House, a huge house seized by the Japs and used as a garrison.  She had died on the first night of her captivity after being raped and beaten.  Her father had been devastated and outraged, and had sworn to make the Japanese pay for what they’d done.  He had ended up giving his life for the cause he was fighting for before seeing the day of his enemies’ reckoning.

* * *

Thinking about these things now isn’t helping Oliver deal with the precarious situation that Felicity is in.  His hands are shaking and are balled into fists, willing to strike the first aggressor he meets.  His heart is throbbing in his chest like a hundred horses’ hooves pounding on the earth.  He can’t bear the thought of the love of his life suffering just like the thousands of nameless, faceless women ravaged by soulless savages. 

There’s a glimmer of hope as he considers the slight possibility that a higher-ranking official in the Kempeitai or the Japanese army might forbid his men from manhandling or assaulting a female American prisoner.  Would commanding officers be as brazen as those in lower ranks as to do something so atrocious?  He is not sure if this has ever happened to Western women under Japanese rule.  He hasn’t heard of such stories in China or here.  Even then, nothing is certain, and anything can happen.  Oliver hopes against all hope that his worst fear never happens to the most precious woman in his life.

He whispers a silent yet ardent prayer to God to spare his beloved Felicity from such brutality, and then he speaks again, with every ounce of conviction he can muster. 

“Major Lapham, my men and I will attempt this rescue mission, with or without your help.  We leave tonight, as soon as Mr. Ramirez has eaten and has time to catch his breath.  Private First-Class John Diggle isn’t an archer like the rest of us.  He will need a gun and a rifle and some ammo.  The rest of us only need our bows and arrows.  If you change your mind, reinforcements would most certainly be appreciated.”

* * *

**_San Fernando, Pampanga_ **

**_24 hours ago_ **

The door to the dirty, damp holding room opens.  It’s really just an ordinary room in what used to be an office building in a government-owned rice granary in the outskirts of the town.  It is almost empty except for a foldable cot, two rattan chairs, and a small basin that serves as an improvised toilet.  But Felicity is fully aware that it is her cell.  It has been her cell for the past several hours now, and she wonders for how long. 

She also wonders where the Japanese have taken Aurora, her friend and co-worker.  Back in the outpost in Orani, they had been interrogated for hours, separately.  Her wrists and forearms ached, having been bound by rough ropes to the arms of a wooden chair.  Her stomach ached, because they hadn’t been given any food or water.  Her right cheek ached – the one that the officer of the Kempeitai who had been questioning her had slapped with the back of his hand.  The mean officer had a ring on his finger, and its sharp edge had left, not just a nasty bruise, but also an ugly cut on her face.  But no matter, she thinks, for they got nothing out of her except her name and the same information she had on her passport and Red Cross papers – all of which the Kempeitai had already confiscated.

She can’t say the same for Aurora.  When Aurora returned to their cell in the outpost in Orani, the young woman had obviously been beaten.  Her arms and legs bore marks of having been whipped by a belt of some kind.  She had a bleeding cut on her forehead, and her lower lip was swollen.  The poor girl spent the rest of their stay in the outpost shaking in fear and crying on Felicity’s shoulder.  Felicity hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask her what she might have told their interrogators when they were brought out of the cell and transported by jeep to their present location.

A Japanese officer (presumably, based on the uniform he is wearing) enters the room, followed by two guards holding Aurora, her friend and co-worker. 

“Auring!” Felicity cries, rising to her feet from her chair.

The guards shove Aurora towards Felicity.  The petite Filipina is too weak to stay on her feet that even the force of the guards’ push isn’t enough for her to make it all the way to where Felicity is standing with open arms to catch her.  Aurora’s frail, limp body lands on the floor with a loud thud.  Felicity is sure that the fall must hurt tremendously, but the young lady doesn’t scream in pain.  She doesn’t even move.

“Auring!” Felicity cries for her friend once again.  She crouches down on the floor to check on the young woman. 

Felicity lifts Aurora’s head and brushes her hair away from her face.  Felicity notices that she has more bruises and abrasions on her face.  But what scares Felicity more is the look in her eyes.  Aurora doesn’t seem to be unconscious because her eyes are open, but they are expressionless.  It’s like she’s in a daze.  Felicity realizes that Aurora is in shock, almost catatonic.

“What have you done to her?!”  Felicity turns to their captors and demands an answer.

The two Japanese guards do not answer.  They only smirk, mockery written all over their faces as they look at their captives with disdain.

The officer, on the other hand, is still.  His face does not scorn, nor does he look upon their prisoners with contempt.  Instead, he looks almost as if he is apologetic and concerned.

After a few moments, the officer comes forward to address Felicity.  He holds out his hand and offers a piece of clean cloth to her.

“You can use this to clean her up,” the Japanese officer says in slow, but understandable English.  Felicity takes the cloth and simply nods to acknowledge what little help he offers.  She is not sure if this is a sincere gesture of goodwill.  The man speaks politely, but Felicity is too angry and upset to appreciate any act of kindness, no matter how earnest. 

“I will ask my men to bring a pail of water and a basin.  I trust you are able to care for your friend for now?  You are a nurse after all,” the officer says, his eyes calling Felicity’s attention to Aurora’s lower extremities.

When Felicity turns over Aurora’s body to check on her further, what she sees makes her sick.  Auring’s skirt is ripped and blood-stained.  Her thighs are bruised and bloody.  Felicity’s blood boils and she screams with all her might.  “Animals!  What has she ever done to you!” 

Her eyes pool with angry tears, and she almost foolishly pounces on the officer standing near her.  She is wiser than that, though.  She knows attacking three Japs is an exercise in futility.  But she determined not to burst into tears in front of them, to stand her ground and show them that she isn’t as weak and afraid as they might picture a woman of lesser size would be. 

“I’m very sorry, Miss… Smoak, is it?  War can be… cruel.”  The officer doesn’t say more.  He simply bows his head and then turns to walk away.

Felicity is stunned.  Why would this Japanese officer offer an apology?  Is he even sincere, or is he being sarcastic and cruel?

“If you were truly sorry, why did you let this happen?  You are an officer of the imperial army.  You could have done something to stop this!” she cries out.

The Japanese officer stops and turns.  Their eyes meet, and for some reason, Felicity thinks she sees a hint of sympathy and pity.  “You are right.  I am an officer of the imperial army of Japan.  That is why I follow orders without question and bring honor to my country.”

“And you call _this_ honor?” she challenges him, calling his attention to the battered woman in her arms.

The officer does not answer.  He drops his gaze slightly, and for a moment there, Felicity senses that the man actually feels shame.  Then he straightens his back, looks up, and tells her, “Where they will take your friend in the morning, there will be a Japanese doctor checking on them occasionally.”

Felicity hates that he thinks what he just said will make her feel any better.  But she also wonders what he meant when he said _them_.  She hates to admit it to herself, but deep down she knows the implication.  “So… the stories and the rumors are true…” she thinks to herself. 

That is when her first teardrop falls.  She grieves for every woman, every girl that has fallen victim to sexual slavery.  She is enraged, but she feels helpless that she can do nothing to make a difference now.  In this dismal cell.

Before the officer turns back to leave, he tells her, “I will ask my men to bring you some food and clean water to drink.”  She doesn’t thank him, doesn’t acknowledge him this time.  She loathes the enemy too much right now to be her usual courteous self.

When she doesn’t respond, the officer says, “My name is Maseo Yamashiro.  I am _Junshikan_ , warrant officer of this detachment.  The _Tai-i_ asks to see you.  You shouldn’t be afraid.  He specifically ordered that no one in this detachment is to lay a hand on you.  Get some rest after you eat and tend to your friend, Ms. Smoak.  I will come back for you in the morning.  Good evening.” 

The officer appears to be politely offering some sort of olive branch, but Felicity doesn’t take it.  So, he walks away with the guards and shuts the door behind them.

Felicity is much too upset to move from the spot where she cradles her friend in her arms. 

But her rage is soon overcome by anxiety.  Who is this _Tai-i,_ and what did he want with her?  She assumes that he is a higher-ranking official in the Kempeitai whom this officer named Maseo is taking orders from.  She couldn’t decide if the meeting would be a diplomatic advantage or a deceptive trap to corner her into divulging guerrilla secrets. 

Felicity tries to be strong, yet she also can’t deny that she has a very bad feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the most gruesome occurrences during the Second World War in the Pacific was the physical abuse of women by the Japanese. In the last decades, so many studies have been done, so many accounts have been published, so many testimonies have surfaced that document the historicity of "comfort women" in Asia at that time. Hundreds of thousands of women and girls suffered - mostly unwillingly and forcibly - just to service the imperial troops. The hardest hit were China and Korea, but the women of the Philippines also suffered. The first Filipina woman (now a grandmother) who came out with her story in the early 1990s was Rosa Henson, and since then, more elderly women have come forward and started their fight for justice by forming a civic organization called Lila Filipina, asking for the Japanese government to apologize unequivocally and show restitution for this type of war crime. Sadly, some of these elderly Filipino women have died without seeing the justice they sought. Their numbers have decreased. You can Google "comfort women" all you want. It happened. It was real. It was abominable. And I hope it never ever happens again. The accounts and stories I read during my research - especially the one of the Red House in Mapanique, Pampanga (an article from the BBC news magazine) - made me sick and literally brought me to tears. 
> 
> Truly, we live in a broken, fallen world. We cannot find the answers we seek for the fundamental questions of life and the causes of human suffering if we look to ourselves. But we also cannot lose faith - not faith in the inherent good of humanity, for we've seen what human beings are capable of - but faith in a Transcendent Being who offers hope and deliverance from our worst fears.
> 
> This chapter was truly difficult to write. And I do not know what your reaction will be. Do I lose readers and subscribers after this? It's all up to you. After what I've discovered, learned, and pondered upon, I no longer care how many kudos will be added to this fic or how many reviews I get after this. I just think this is my tiny part in making more people aware that we ought to learn the hard, painful lessons of the past so that we don't make the mistake of repeating them, and that humankind by itself is lost and helpless without a Savior, who Himself suffered and gave His life so that we might TRULY live.
> 
> More Notes:  
> 1\. Edilberto is my grandfather's name, the war vet that survived the Bataan Death March.  
> 2\. Simon Ibarra is actually two names of the same character, the principal protagonist in the controversial novels of our national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal about the corruption and abuse of the Spanish colonial government that led to the Philippine Revolution in the 1890s.  
> 3\. I intentionally did not give a name to the Filipino archer in Oliver's team who lost his daughter and eventually gave his life for the team. I wanted his character to reflect the thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of victims of war crimes during the war whose names we will never even get to know.  
> 4\. I may be wrong, but I did not come across an article or an account that documents female American POWs having been sexually abused - except for the testimony of Margaret Utinsky, which is said to be mentioned in her autobiography, but hasn't been corroborated, as commentators have said. The "angels of Bataan" have not reported this type of treatment during their internment as POWs. However, there are studies and documented accounts and court testimonies of female European POWs forcibly taken, abused, and used as comfort women. One of the most prominent accounts is that of a Dutch-Australian woman named Jan Ruffe O'Herne, who was forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese in the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia) during the War. She later on became a human rights activist who spoke and campaigned against war rape. Having said this, it factors in Oliver's fears for Felicity that she is an American civilian held prisoner as of this chapter. He has cause to hold up hope, but he also has cause to fear for her safety. We shall see what happens in the next chapter.


	12. Til Death Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Green Arrow and his men attempt the daring rescue of Felicity from the Kempeitai detachment. Lots of stuff happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the darkness from the previous chapter continues into this one. So again, if violence and abuse towards women are a trigger for you, you may want to skip the portion I marked in between double lines of section breaks. There are no gory details and I've used language that's appropriate to the T rating, but I thought it best to warn you just in case. 
> 
> I promise that there's light at the end of this tunnel, and you'd most probably be grinning from ear to ear (or teary-eyed) by the time this chapter is over. I hope. This is probably the longest chapter in this fic, so without further ado, I'll let you get on with it.

**_Cambridge, Massachusetts_ **

**_Spring, 1938_ **

“You may now kiss the bride!” the minister declares. 

Everyone in the chapel cheers and applauds as the groom lifts the veil over the bride’s head to kiss her.  He cups her face with both hands and gives her a chaste kiss.  Felicity smiles, and then she wipes away a teardrop from her cheek with a finger of her cotton-gloved hand. 

She and her parents and the Diggles had travelled by train cross-country to attend the nuptial of her step-sister Laurel and their dear friend Tommy Merlyn.  They had arrived Friday afternoon, just in time to help Laurel with last minute preparations.  Felicity and Donna made good on their promise to help arrange the details of the wedding ceremony and the reception all day Saturday before they had to pick up Sara at the bus station Sunday morning.  Fortunately, all the preparations for the simple ceremony at Holden Chapel in Harvard Yard and the small reception at Hayes-Bickford Restaurant in Harvard Square had gone smoothly.  They had finished everything by early afternoon and still had time to help the bride find a suitable white dress for her wedding the next day.

Laurel had cried for help because the wedding date had been set quite hastily, what with Tommy proposing just a week ago, and Laurel in the middle of final exams in Harvard Law School.  Tommy had proposed even if Laurel was just on her third year in college because he and John Diggle were being deployed to China in a month’s time; he’d wanted to go on his first overseas tour of duty as a married man, and Laurel had happily consented.

It’s a glorious Sunday afternoon late in Spring, perfect for the wedding.  The weather is just right, but the temperature outside is beginning to cool somewhat as the sun sets over the horizon.  Holden Chapel, which is the third oldest building in Harvard (and one of the oldest college buildings in America), is minimally but exquisitely decorated with a variety of spring blooms.  She and her mother had tried to make sure Laurel got the best flowers available within their parents’ budget, as that was their wedding gift to her, and the florist they contracted the day before had done a wonderful job.  The ornaments are simple, yet they give the altar and the aisle a dramatic look. 

The wedding party and guests are even more sparse.  Aside from the minister, the couple, and the Lance family, there are only a handful of college friends and two of Laurel’s favorite professors in attendance.  (Mr. Merlyn, Tommy’s father was unable to cancel an important business trip in Chicago because of the very short notice, and because Tommy had no siblings and his mother had passed when he was younger, no family member had come for him, so Felicity asked John to seat his family on the groom’s side of the chapel.)  But no matter, Tommy and Laurel look like they’re on top of the world and everything else has faded away in the midst of this special occasion that marked a milestone in their love story. 

Felicity can’t help but feel a tad bit sentimental and envious.  Sentimental – because she misses Oliver so much.  He’s in China on his first tour with a special unit of marines.  He couldn’t come home for his best friend’s wedding, so Diggle has to stand in as proxy to the Best Man.  Envious, yes – because she’s been imagining her own wedding day with him as her groom the very moment Laurel started the bridal march down the aisle with Quentin.  She can see what her wedding dress will look like.  She can picture her handsome groom in his crisp marine’s uniform with an insignia showing a rank that is higher than that of Lance Corporal.  She can feel his lips on hers, like soft pillow-mountains kissed by the early morning dew, after he lifts her veil when the minister tells him that he could kiss his bride.  She knows what her original vow will contain, for she has been rehearsing it in her mind while the minister gave his sermon during the ceremony.

As far as Felicity is concerned, Oliver and she are end-game.  She is certain that they love each other, and the promises they’d made at Dearden Ranch last year before he left the country had sealed their intention to marry when the time is right.  She believes in her heart that that time will come, even if another world war is brewing in Europe, and possibly even in the Pacific… where he is.  But right now, the scene before her is the perfect backdrop for conflicting emotions that cause her to be uncharacteristically emotional.  She misses him terribly, and she wonders when she will see him again.

Everyone files out of the chapel with joyful laughter and well wishes for the newly-weds, but Felicity remains seated for a little while longer during the recessional.  She utters a silent but urgent prayer not just for God’s will to be done in her life and Oliver’s, but also for His protection to cover him in his missions.

“Please, God, bring Oliver home safe,” she prays, holding back the tears.

* * *

**_San Fernando, Pampanga_ **

**_1943_ **

Seated on the floor of her cell and leaning against the wall next to Auring’s cot, Felicity reminisces her step-sister’s wedding.  She misses Laurel and Sara.  She misses her mother and Quentin.  She misses her family.  How can she not?  She may never get to see them again. 

Most of all, she misses Oliver, even if it has been only a few days since she last saw him.  How can she not?  She may never get to see him again.  Never get to walk down the aisle and meet him at the altar.  She believes in marriage, in a lifetime commitment.  “Til death do us part,” the traditional vow says.  Death.  She hates how death has been scorning them, trying its hand at parting them, over and over again, even before they’ve had a chance to say the words before God and witnesses.  She truly is growing weary of it all. 

One part of her regrets having turned down Oliver’s proposal twice.  “I may not survive this, but at least I would die as Mrs. Felicity Smoak Queen.  I guess now it’ll never happen,” she reprimands herself.  The other part of her encourages her to keep holding on, to believe that everything happens for a purpose.  That it has certainly been enough to have loved Oliver truly before she dies – short of being married to him – than not to have loved him at all.  She knows she’s ready to die for her country and for the cause of freedom and justice, and the fact that Oliver is the same way comforts her in the midst of her emotional pain.

Tears roll down her cheeks, but she keeps herself from sobbing so as not to wake her injured friend. 

Auring is resting but has started to run a fever.  Felicity thinks she has some infection because of the beatings and the abuse, but she can only do so much without medicines and the proper supplies to treat her.  She only hopes that Officer Yamashiro makes good on his word that a doctor will be available where Auring is being transferred in a few hours.  Left untreated, the young woman might not make it in the coming days. 

More tears fall.  Felicity weeps not just for how inhumanely her friend has been treated, but also for the injustice that has befallen many Filipinas and their families under the Japanese because of this reprehensible war.  One thing she hates most about the war is how women and girls are being degraded.  Someday, she hopes, she gets the chance to testify in a war court about the heinous crimes she’s witnessed.  Surely the testimony of a bona fide Red Cross worker counts for something.

In the morning, two Japanese soldiers bring them some boiled sweet potatoes to eat and clean water to drink. 

As soon as their meal is over, the guards return for Auring.  The young lady seems a little more lucid now, but she still doesn’t speak, doesn’t protest when the guards come to take her away.  She can hardly walk straight in her condition, so Felicity tries to assist her.  But when they reach the door, the guards prevent Felicity from going any further. 

“Goodbye, Auring,” Felicity tells her friend.  She tries to make eye contact with the young woman, but Auring keeps looking down and all Felicity gets in return is silence.  Felicity embraces her and whispers in her ear, “You are not done fighting, Aurora.  You hear me?  Survive!  I will pray every day that we could see each other again someday.”

The guards take her friend away and lock Felicity alone in the cell.

* * *

A few hours earlier, Oliver and his men made it to the outskirts of San Fernando at the crack of dawn.  He had taught all his men how to leave “breadcrumbs” behind in case any of them got separated from the team and thought it was safe for the others to rendezvous at a secure location.  By the time they picked up on Simon’s trail in a wooded area several hundred meters away from the rice granary that has been turned into the _bunkentai_ detachment of the Kempeitai, the sun was already up.

The Filipino archer was mighty glad to see his comrades again, who, in turn, were relieved to see him alive, confident that he can provide more information about what they were up against – anything that would turn this suicide rescue mission into something that they could all, hopefully, survive.

“What can you tell us, Simon?” Oliver asked. 

Simon Ibarra pulls his hood down and answers, “Lieutenant Queen, there are less troops in the detachment right now.  About half of them seem to have been transferred.  A long convoy of military trucks and jeeps left about two hours ago, headed north towards Nueva Ecija.  They put a small group of Filipino girls in one of the trucks, so I’m guessing that perhaps that truck is headed to Bayombong, Nueva Vizcaya province.  That’s where the rumored comfort station is, so I’ve heard.  But even then, sir, with the troops left inside the detachment, I still think that we are outnumbered, maybe thirty to one.”

Oliver considers Simon’s estimate a staggering thought, and so does his men.  All their arrows plus John’s bullets put together aren’t even enough to put down every Japanese they would most likely encounter inside the detachment.  They might be able to get to Felicity, but they might not be able to get out alive.  Oliver refuses to give up though.

“Are you sure Ms. Smoak is inside?” he asked Simon.

“Sir, I haven’t seen her with my own eyes.  But I saw the Japanese bring out an injured young woman – a Filipino – from the office building of the granary this morning.  She was one of the girls put in the truck I was telling you about.  I think I recognize her as the Red Cross volunteer that was arrested with Ms. Smoak at the clinic.  So most likely, Ms. Smoak is still in there, sir.”

“Good job, Simon,” Oliver complimented his faithful and able mentee.  “Here, have some water and something to eat.  We have a long day ahead of us.”  He motioned for Simon to take some of the food and water that Rene and Roy had packed when they left Major Lapham’s base.

* * *

Oliver, John, and Roy leave Simon and Rene for a few hours to observe the Japanese detachment from a good vantage point in the nearby trees.  By mid-morning, Oliver spots Felicity for the first time with the binoculars.  Her hands aren’t bound, but she is being led by armed guards from the office building to a smaller one-story building that appears heavily guarded and is swarming with officers of the Kempeitai clad in their proud uniforms.  He surmises that that is where the _Tai-i_ is.  “She is probably going in for more interrogation,” he thinks to himself. 

In less than thirty minutes, Felicity emerges from the door of that building and is brought back to the office building that is larger, but not as heavily guarded.  She doesn’t look like she is in worse shape than she was when she went in – except for a small cut on her upper lip – and that comes as a big relief to Oliver.  On the one hand, he feels confident that the Kempeitai are keeping her alive for some reason, and that they seem to be treating her better than he feared; but on the other hand, he knows that at any given time, the Kempeitai might just change their mind, especially if they decide they don’t have enough reason to keep her alive anymore.  Worse, it might just be a matter of time before she is transferred to another location, like they did to her friend – somewhere they won’t be able to follow her.  Somewhere she doesn’t deserve to be in.  Somewhere he won’t be able to save her from the sheer brutality of…

Oliver stops himself.  He doesn’t want to go there.  What he does not know, however, is that he isn’t completely wrong about his speculations.

* * *

**_Less than thirty minutes ago…_ **

“Have a seat, Ms. Smoak.”  The _Tai-i_ does not stand as he speaks.  He stays seated behind a desk, and he is preoccupied with signing some documents.  He is aware of her presence, but apparently, the documents are more important than her.

Felicity does not move an inch from where she is standing, as the guards step out of the room and close the door behind her.  She silently observes the captain of the Kempeitai.  She thinks that he must be in his late forties or early fifties, almost twice her age.  The expression on his face hints that he is a proud man, stern even, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he later on proves to have a capacity for sarcasm.  Felicity doesn’t normally judge people based on outward appearance, but she finds that the temptation to do so when it comes to their enemies has been increasingly difficult to resist.

The _Tai-i_ looks up for some reason, and when he lays his eyes on the American nurse, he squints his already chinky eyes behind a pair of spectacles to scrutinize her from head to foot and back.  Felicity is fully clothed, still wearing the moss green shirt and high-waisted pants that Roy Harper had lent her the day she had gone down the mountain with Rene Ramirez and Simon Ibarra, but the dirty look on the man’s face makes her feel as if she were naked.  The man hasn’t touched her yet, and she already feels objectified, violated.  She wraps one arm across her midsection and slings the other one across her chest to her shoulder to conceal, not so much her torso that’s very modestly covered, but the fear that’s growing from deep inside her gut.  When the high-ranking Kempeitai officer is finished with his appraisal, his pursed lips turn up to a sardonic smile that causes shivers to go up and down her spine.

“It’s a pity that a beautiful thing like you has had to wear a man’s clothing.  I would have expected that the ‘hero’ the people call the Green Arrow would know better how to treat his woman,” the _Tai-i_ remarks scornfully.

“I am not a thing, sir,” Felicity responds, “and I most certainly am not any man’s possession.”  She musters every ounce of courage to keep her voice from breaking even as she attempts a stare down with the Japanese leader. 

“We shall see about that.”  The _Tai-i_ smirks sarcastically, and Felicity takes it as a both an insult to her dignity and a threat to her safety. 

“Right now, what concerns me, Ms. Smoak, is your clandestine association with the hooded guerrilla and his small band of archers that have been aiding the resistance movement.  They have been giving both the military and the Kempeitai quite a headache.  My men have told me that despite the pressure they have exerted, you have neither confirmed nor denied your connections with the guerrilla fighters. What can you say about these allegations?”

Felicity does not utter a word.  She does not want to engage him in a conversation, even if she is a bit impressed by the Japanese leader’s vocabulary and fluency in English.  She would have to be very careful about what she tells him, she reminds herself.

“Well?  What have you got to say?  I am a very busy man, Ms. Smoak.  I do not have all day to talk to a stubborn woman,” says the _Tai-i_ , who – up to this point – still has not identified himself.  (Felicity would have wanted to know his name for when she gets the chance to appear in court when the war is over… if ever she survives it.)

“My name is Felicity Megan Smoak.  I am an American citizen.  I am a registered nurse with the American National Red Cro--”

“Stop wasting my time!” the _Tai-i_ shouts suddenly and slams his hand against the surface of his desk.  His temperance, which he obviously does not have much of, is wearing thin.  He moves from behind his desk and approaches Felicity, crossing his arms behind his back.  He circles her like a predator does its prey.  She takes a deep breath, anxiously anticipating the man’s next move.

“Do you know why you are even here?”

She does not answer.  She bites her lower lip and shuts her eyes.  She does not want to give him the pleasure of looking into her eyes and seeing her fear.

“Your… friend… She sold you out for a year’s rations.  Loyalty is hard to come by these days,” the _Tai-i_ mocks. 

Felicity is sure the captain of the Kempeitai is referring to Gloria.  Who else could have ratted her and Aurora out?  Felicity considers her a coward for wearing a _bayong_ on her head.  After all that they’ve been through together since the war broke out, the young woman had the effrontery to point a finger at them and give them up to the Japanese. 

“So, you see, I do not really need your admission to charge you of treason against the government for supporting the guerrillas.  However, Warrant Officer Yamashiro took pity on you and convinced the other officers to spare your life.”  The _Tai-i_ pauses, his mouth just inches away from Felicity’s nape.  “When you were brought here, the _Sho-i_ – the commander of this _bunkentai_ – he took one good look at you and thought that you would be a perfect gift for me, to celebrate our impending capture of the Green Arrow.”  He laughs at that, and its eeriness causes goosebumps to break out from her neck to the small of her back.

“Congratulations, then,” Felicity says, matching his sarcasm.  “But if you seem so confident about this victory you speak of, then you wouldn’t have kept me alive.  But see, I’m still here.  And you are still threatening me to get the information you want.  Which means… you are nowhere near finding this Green Arrow and his men.  And _if_ you ever do capture him, it would never be because you got anything out of me.”

The _Tai-i_ grabs her by the hair and pulls her head back.  His other arm circles her waist from behind and pulls her flush towards himself.  “Do not dare test me, Ms. Smoak!  You have no idea what I am capable of.  I can have you to myself right here, right now if I want to.  And believe me, I do.” 

Felicity feels the captain’s every breath on her skin, and it makes her sick listening to his threats. 

He releases his hold on her hair, but he doesn’t let go of her body against his.  “But I want to give you a choice – one that can be advantageous to the both of us.  Give up the Green Arrow and you can enjoy the privileges of being mine and mine alone.  Refuse, and I will hand you over to my men, so they can send you to one of the comfort stations where we already sent your friend.” 

“That is some choice!  I’d rather die than be anybody’s slave, especially not yours!” is Felicity’s fiery response.

The _Tai-i_ lets go of her and then slaps her across the face with the back of his hand.  She staggers backwards a little, but she manages to hold her ground.  She touches the spot on her face where she feels the stinging pain most, and wipes the blood dripping from a small cut on her upper lip.  She knows that in a matter of minutes, it’s going to bruise and swell.

“You have all day to think about what your choice is going to be, Ms. Smoak.  When I come for you tonight, I shall not be so kind.” 

The _Tai-i_ walks away and assumes his previous position behind his desk.  He calls for the guards to bring her back to her cell.

* * *

The Green Arrow and his men meet up in the woods at noontime.  Over a meager lunch of boiled sweet potatoes, they strategize for the rescue mission based on the information that Simon provided previously and what Oliver and the others gathered that morning.  They talk about the layout of the rice granary, about possible entry and extraction points, about when to use and not to use their very limited weapons and ammo, and about how to avoid as much hand-to-hand combat as they can.  After an hour of discussion, which involves a heated debate at one point, they decide on the plan. 

They would wait until tonight to commence the rescue.  Simon would go in first, as he is more familiar with the area than any of them, having observed it from various points outside the perimeter for long hours the day before.  He would clear a safe path for the team through the granary that will allow them to enter the office building where Felicity is being held prisoner, and if necessary, he would empty his quiver with poison-laced arrows to eliminate every Japanese that would get in their way.  He has orders to fire mortally wounding shots that would keep their enemies quiet permanently, lest any of them call out for reinforcements.  Simon would then have to stay close to Oliver for the remainder of the mission.  They agree that John would stay at a stationary, secluded position outside the perimeter fence and provide cover for the team at the extraction point if they are pursued by the Japanese upon escape.

Oliver’s instructions are clear.  Under no circumstance is any member of the team to engage their enemies inside the granary.  The only way for this rescue mission to succeed is to maintain stealth and stay undetected.  The archers are to shoot their poison-laced arrows only at the Japanese that stand in the way of their safe escape from the facility.  Oliver wants to keep the casualties down to the minimum so that they don’t provoke the Japanese further to retaliate any more than they already have, and to go on an all-out war against the Green Arrow and his men, which will endanger more innocent civilians and jeopardize the cause of the resistance movement.  If they’re careful and quick, John won’t have to shoot down more Japanese with his long-range rifle at the exit point, and they could just get away without complications.  He reminds his men that they’re just here to find Ms. Smoak and get her and themselves out alive.

* * *

Everything goes according to plan, so far.

A few minutes ago, Simon Ibarra shot down both sentries stationed at the perimeter fence nearest the office building where they believe Felicity is being held.  He then carefully climbed over the barbed-wired fence and then removed some of the barbed wires with the help of a metal cutter to make it easier and faster for the rest of the team to climb over and escape later on.  Simon then led everyone safely and quietly to the rear door of the office building.  (So far, he had only to shoot down two other Japs assigned to guard that entrance.)  The team had to move fast before the next pair of substitute guards stumble upon their fallen comrades.

From the outside, they’d seen only one room on the first floor and two rooms on the second floor with lights on.  They agreed to split up and search those rooms.  Oliver and Simon would take one of the two rooms on the second floor while Rene would take the other.  Roy and the other Filipino archer would take the one on the first floor.

Oliver and his men enter the building from the back entrance of the first floor.  They are about to proceed to their target locations when an unexpected development hinders them from doing so.  They hear the front door of the building open.  The guards stationed there greet a higher-ranking officer, and soon Oliver and his men hear footsteps rounding the corner.  If they do not go back to where they came from, they would be spotted in a few seconds.  Oliver orders his men to retreat, but he keeps the door slightly ajar.

He peeks through the opening, confident that the rear exit is hardly visible from the other end of the hallway because the lights are out.  He sees what look like officers of the Kempeitai coming around the corner and marching down the hallway.  The older looking man wearing eyeglasses and marching ahead of the two others looks like he’s the man in charge.  The Kempeitai officers stop in front of one of the doors at the midpoint of the long hallway.  One of the men unlocks the door with a key and then takes his position to guard the door with his other companion.  The spectacled one that looks like their leader speaks, “Good evening, Ms. Smoak,” and enters the room.

Oliver’s heart begins to beat faster.  She’s just within reach, he thinks to himself.  It’s become easier now to get her out knowing for sure where she is held.  His team wouldn’t have to split up; all they need to do is wait for the officers to leave, and then they can make their move.  “First floor.  Third door down the hall from here.  That’s where she is,” he tells his men who are at the ready just outside the door.  He also tells them to wait for his cue.

* * *

* * *

“I trust you have made a decision?” the _Tai-i_ asks Felicity as he closes the door behind him and turns the lock on the handle.

Felicity does not even honor his presence by standing.  She remains seated on a chair near the empty cot.  “Yes, I have.  But I’m afraid you’ll be very disappointed because I haven’t changed my mind.  Do your worst; I’m not afraid to die.  I will never tell you anything about the Green Arrow,” she replies with conviction.

The _Tai-i_ is angered and takes brisk strides towards her.  He grabs her by the chin and presses his fingers into her cheeks.  “You will stand when I address you!”  He grabs her arm with his other hand and pulls her up to her feet.

“Take your filthy hands off me!” she yells, struggling to break free from the strong hold of her aggressor.

The captain punches her stomach before she could utter another cry.  As soon as she recovers from that, an upper cut lands on her jaw and she screams at the top of her lungs, “Stop!” 

But he does not.  Instead, he pushes her against the wall.  Her head bangs against the hard wood surface, and she momentarily loses awareness, loses focus on defending herself from her attacker.

“You have made your choice.  Brave, but foolish!  I will make sure you will rot in the comfort stations for the rest of this war.  But not before I have my way with you first!”

Perhaps it is good that everything is a blur to her and she does not hear those words at all.  Her head is spinning, and all she can think about is the throbbing pain at the back of her head.  She does not notice that her attacker has dragged her away from the wall and shoved her down to the table, sending the plates and drinking glasses flying and crashing down to the floor.  Everything is blurry to her, and her attacker senses his advantage, so he goes for the hem of her shirt. 

* * *

From the slightly ajar door, Oliver hears Felicity scream.  “Take your filthy hands off me!”  From behind the closed doors of her cell, the sound is faint, but his men hear it clearly, too. 

Oliver doesn’t waste another second.  He takes Simon with him and tells the others to stay where they are.  He and Simon would breach the building through the window of the room where she’s being held, and as soon as the guards at the door of the room rush in to help their leader, Roy and the other Filipino archer are to rush in and provide reinforcement.  Rene is to stay at the rear exit and shoot down the Japs that will surely come down the hallway to aid the Kempeitai officers. 

As Oliver finishes giving quick orders to his men using just hand signals, another shrill cry cuts through the silence of the night.  “Stop!”  Felicity’s voice echoes in the evening air.  Then there’s a loud crash.  He has to get to her.  Right now!

Oliver runs as fast as his feet can carry him, which is not as fast as he would like for him to be.  (He has realized and accepted months ago that he will never be able to run as swiftly as he used to, not after his hip was injured by the bayonet stab during the Death March.)  He shoots a poison-laced arrow at the lone sentry by Felicity’s cell’s window.  When he and Simon reach the spot, they find that the window – while easy to breach because the glass is already broken – is higher than they thought. 

Meanwhile, Felicity regains consciousness and finds herself without her moss green shirt.  She realizes that even if she is still wearing her bra, her attacker is already going for the belt of her pants. 

“Stop!” she cries, slapping the _Tai-i’s_ face as hard as she can.  She manages to scratch his face with her fingernails, which infuriates the man even more.  Her head still hurts, but she is not going to go down without a fight.  He is not robbing her of her dignity so easily.

Outside, Simon offers to prop up Oliver on his shoulders so that he can climb through the broken window.  It takes them a couple of attempts, but they finally succeed at it.  When Oliver is able to get a firm grip of the window frame with his arms and pull himself up, what he sees makes his blood boil.

Felicity’s attacker has her pinned down on a table.  Felicity is clearly putting up a fight, warding off the blows of her attacker with her arms.  But her attacker is succeeding in overpowering her.  Underneath the vile man’s frame, he can see the bare skin of her torso.  Rage rises up within him.  No one lays a hand on the woman he loves!

Oliver slips, but manages to grab hold of the window sill with both hands.  He struggles to pull himself up again, delaying Felicity’s rescue.  By the time he pulls himself up the second time, what he sees through the window amazes him and increases his pride in her.

With her last surge of strength, Felicity forcefully lifts her knee against her attacker’s groin and pushes him off her.  The _Tai-i_ momentarily loses control of the situation and staggers backwards, holding on to his injured parts with both hands.  Felicity gets up as quickly as she can, but instead of running away from her attacker towards the door, she picks up the largest piece of broken glass from the floor, and holds it out for her attacker to see.  The sharp edges of the glass cut her palm, but she doesn’t mind.  If he dares come near her again, she will have no qualms about driving her only weapon into his flesh.  She stands her ground, and Oliver can see the determination in her eyes.

The _Tai-i_ is furious.  He pulls out a gun from its holster underneath his now unbuttoned uniform and aims it at Felicity.  He curses her in his native tongue.

Felicity’s eyes grow wide as she realizes she doesn’t stand a chance against a bullet.  The faces of her loved ones begin to flash before her eyes – her mother, Quentin, Laurel and Tommy, Sara, John and Lyla and their kids, and Oliver.  Her final thoughts would be of him.

The _Tai-i_ is about to pull the trigger, but Oliver jumps off the window and lands on the floor.  As soon as he is up on his feet, he sends an arrow flying through the air and into the _Tai-i’s_ hand.  The man drops the gun.  Just as he turns to see who’d shot him, a second arrow goes straight into his heart.

Felicity drops the broken glass in her bleeding hand and rushes into Oliver’s arms.  “You came for me,” she cries into his chest.

“Of course, I came for you,” Oliver says to her.  “There’s no time.  We need to get out of here.”

“How?” she asks.

With his dying breath, the _Tai-i_ shouts for help.  “Intruder!”

There’s a loud banging on the door, followed by two shots aimed at the locked door handle.  Nothing else happens for a few seconds except that the _Tai-i_ breathes his last. 

Oliver puts Felicity behind him, preparing to face off with the two Japanese officers that will barge into the room to aid their captain. She quickly puts on her shirt that she picks up from the floor. But when the door is forced open, friendly faces greet them.  “Time to go,” Roy tells them.

* * *

* * *

They run down the hallway to the rear exit of the building, but soon Japanese reinforcements are pursuing them from the other end of the hall.  Rene fires arrows at the Japs.  His aim is as good as his mentor’s – almost, as good.  He hits his targets efficiently even as his friends are running towards him.  His arrows fly through to their enemies, missing his friends by mere inches.

They hurry down the escape route – the same path as they came in – looking forward to the exit at the perimeter fence where John Diggle is to provide cover.  Behind them, they can hear the chatter and heavy footsteps of Japanese soldiers and the Kempeitai.  They have to move fast, for soon, a swarm of pursuers would be on their tail. 

When they reach the perimeter fence, they see Simon Ibarra’s body slumped on the ground, leaning against the fence.  Oliver crouches down and checks for a pulse.  He lifts his friend’s head up so he could speak.  He notices the gaping wound on Simon’s abdomen.

“What happened?” Oliver asks Simon.

“When you got up to the window, I… I turned to leave and… and rejoin the guys,” Simon answers.  His breathing is shallow, and he knows he doesn’t have much time left, but he has to tell them of the danger they may be in.  “But when I turned… there he was… the man with the… the long sword… The Deathstroke was right there.  I tried… to fight him off… but he was… He…”

Felicity is already applying pressure on Simon’s wound to stop the bleeding, even if she knows it’s a lost cause.  “Shh… Simon, you shouldn’t talk.  Save your strength,” she says.

Simon grips Oliver’s forearm.  “Sir, he… he thrust his sword… through me… and then he… just walked away and… left me for dead.  I… I thought I had to warn you… that the Deathstroke is here… so I… I came here to meet…”  Simon took a deep breath and expired.

Oliver put his friend’s body down on the ground and ran his hand over the man’s eyes to close them.  He then says, “We have to go.”

Oliver’s men escape over the fence.  John is at the ready.  The Japs behind them are still running towards the perimeter fence and are starting to shoot at them from a distance.  Oliver lifts Felicity safely over the fence.  Oliver is the last man out. 

As he starts to climb over the fence himself, a deep, husky, loud voice calls out, “Green Arrow!”

Oliver turns and sees a tall, bulky man in black with a black and orange mask on his face, running swiftly towards him, ready to strike with a katana.  Oliver jumps back down to the ground and nocks an arrow from his quiver, ready to shoot the charging enemy.  He lets an arrow fly, then another, and another.  But all three arrows fall to the ground, deflected or cut in half by Deathstroke’s sword. 

Oliver is taken aback.  The enemy is still charging, and his arrows can’t stop him.  Before he knows it, Deathstroke’s sword slices through the air, barely missing Oliver’s head as he ducks by instinct.  A fight ensues, one that Oliver isn’t sure he can win.  He lands a few strong punches and kicks on his enemy, but the sword somehow connects with his flesh and he sustains a shallow cut on his arm.  Deathstroke sneaks an unexpected move that causes Oliver to land hard on the ground.  Deathstroke prepares to deliver the fatal thrust, but Oliver hears a loud bang, and the next thing he knows, his enemy falls to the ground with a bullet wound on his right upper chest. 

Oliver is sure that he has John Diggle to thank for saving his life.

Oliver gets up on his feet and finds Deathstroke still alive, squirming in pain.  He intends to eliminate the Kempeitai’s secret weapon and make sure that guerrilla fighters never have to fear him again.  But more shots are fired, and this time, the guns are aimed at him.  The Japs are closing in.  He needs to get away.

“Run, kid!  But know that I’m coming for you,” Deathstroke taunts him.

Oliver attempts to climb over the fence once again, but the Japs are closer now, and any of the shots they are firing may just hit him, so he lowers himself down to the ground near the fence, using Simon’s body as a shield. 

His men can see from afar that he’s in trouble, and Felicity begs them to go back for him.  But there’s just too many Japs closing in now.  Diggle tries to shoot as many as he can with his rifle, but what is one rifle compared to many.  The Japs are already setting up high-powered machine guns on the ground to shoot at the Green Arrow. 

“You have to go!  Get her to safety!” Oliver yells out to his men.

“No! No!  We can’t leave him!” Felicity tells Rene and Roy. 

Deathstroke himself stays down because the Japs are raining bullets in the direction where he and the Green Arrow are.  But his laughter roars in the midst of the sounds of the shots fired.  “Can’t run now, kid, can you?” he sneers.

Oliver tries to get up and climb over the fence again, but he falls back down to the ground as a bullet grazes his shoulder.  “No!” Felicity cries out.

Roy Harper knows that he must obey the orders of his leader, or they will all die tonight.  “We have to go!” he tells Felicity and the others.  “That’s what he wants us to do.”

They are about to retreat and leave their leader behind when they see movement in the woods behind them.  Within seconds, a squad of guerilla fighters emerges from the shadows, with machine guns, grenades, and two M2 mortars.  It doesn’t take long before Oliver and his team are able to escape, thanks to the cover provided by the reinforcements that Major Lapham himself led.

* * *

**_Two days later…_ **

Felicity’s injuries have begun to heal.  So have Oliver’s.  There are medics in Major Lapham’s base of operations, but despite the throbbing pain of her own bandaged hand, she had insisted on personally tending to the bullet graze on his shoulder and the cut on his arm that he sustained by Deathstroke’s sword.

The Green Arrow’s original team is down to Lance Corporal Roy Harper, former Philippine Constabulary officer Rene Ramirez, and another Filipino archer from Bataan.  It’s a good thing John Diggle has joined them, but he has decided to stick with guns and rifles, his primary area of expertise.  They will never forget the friends they’d lost – Rory Regan, Edilberto Ramos, the archer from Mapanique, and most recently, Simon Ibarra. 

More than impressed by the courage and craftiness of the Green Arrow’s team thus far, Major Lapham convinces 2nd Lieutenant Oliver Queen to recruit and train new archers.  Lapham recommends a dozen new names from his own men, and Oliver promises to begin basic training soon – as soon as Lapham agrees to grant him one more request, which the leader of the largest guerrilla movement in Central Luzon graciously allows and goes along with.

* * *

The night sky is clear.  There are hardly any clouds up above where Oliver takes Felicity walking hand-in-hand through the woods.  The moonlight shines through the foliage, casting shadows on their skins.

Felicity has lost her position as a Red Cross volunteer.  She can no longer go back to the clinic and help the sick and the wounded who go there for medical assistance.  Dr. Barry Allen will soon hear that she is gone and that the clinic in Orani is no longer operational. 

She is just another fugitive now, just like the Green Arrow and his men.  But, more than ever, she feels she belongs among the guerrillas who have made the mountains and the woods their home.  She has spent the last two days wondering what kind of help she might offer, aside from providing care to the sick and injured among their ranks.  In spite of everything that’s happened, her resolve to support and participate in the resistance movement hasn’t waned.  What she had personally gone through has only fanned the flames of patriotism in her heart.

Best of all, her present predicament allows her to be close to Oliver.  She may not have a decent roof over her head anymore.  She may not enjoy a more comfortable bed again until the war is over.  She would have to grow her hair and braid it daily – the hairdo that her mother had been partial to when she was a little girl (and deep down she disliked it, really) – now that her usual hair care regimen will have to be adapted to living in the mountains.  She will have to settle for freshly picked fruit and boiled or roasted food every day, and dress up like one of the guys.  But she wouldn’t exchange this for the comforts of her small apartment above the clinic, if it means being with Oliver each day.

Take this peaceful evening stroll, for instance.  It’s a rare blessing now, but she wishes it could be something that they can do each day from now on – of course, in between his missions.

“Does it still hurt?” Oliver inquires about her injured hand, the one he gently holds in his.

“A bit,” Felicity replies, “but you don’t have to let go, you know.”  She smiles shyly, observing his reaction from the corner of her eye.

Oliver stops walking, prompting Felicity to stop as well.  He turns to face her, and without letting go of her hand, he lifts his other hand to cup her cheek, careful not to touch the small cut on her upper lip that’s still healing.  There is still some swelling and bruising there; nevertheless, he thinks she has never been more beautiful.

“Good,” he responds, “because I was wondering if now would be a good time for you to consent to wearing your ring.”  He smiles as he gets down on one knee and proposes for the third time.  “Felicity Smoak, will you marry me now?”

She gasps as tears begin to well up in her eyes.  “How does he know that I’m ready?  That I’ve been ready since he sent me away to go back to Orani?  That I’ve never been more ready than when I spent all those hours in that dismal cell regretting that I had refused him before and waited this long?” she asks herself.  Her heart is much too excited to say ‘yes,’ but the more sensible part of her takes over suddenly. 

She pauses to take a breath and answers him, “Why now?  Because you came so close to losing me?  Or because you want to keep me close and tuck me away in these mountains to protect me from danger?”

Oliver rises to his feet.  He answers her questions with gentle conviction.  “I’d be lying if I tell you that I don’t want to keep you close to me from now on, and that I never want for you to be in that kind of danger ever again.  When the Kempeitai took you, I was so scared I was going to lose you, Felicity.” 

Rubbing circles at the back of her hand that he is still holding tenderly, he continues, “But that is not why I want us to be married, not at all.  I want you to be my wife because I have come to realize that what we have is a special kind of partnership.  We believe in the same ideals and we fight for the same cause.  You may not be a marine or an archer, but you are a fighter in your own right.  A fighter who never gives up.  And I’ve come to admire and respect you for that.  Honestly speaking, I think I even find it quite attractive.” 

Oliver actually laughs, and Felicity laughs with him.  She takes a step closer and leans in to him.  She lets go of his hand and wraps her arms around his neck.  “Go on,” she prompts him, because she undoubtedly likes what she’s hearing.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that we’re perfect for each other.  I want you to marry me and be my wife because you are no longer just my girl.  You are my partner, in every way.  We are also both stubborn and headstrong and… and I truly believe that we can make a difference in this crazy world… _together_ … _and_ enjoy each other to the full while we’re at it.”

Felicity closes the remaining gap between them, and despite the discomfort on her upper lip, she presses an affectionate kiss to his lips.  When she pulls back, she tells him with a wink, “Good answer.”

“Is that a yes?” Oliver asks.  He understands that she has just accepted his proposal, but he really, really wants to hear the magic word this time.

“Uh-huh…” she replies mischievously, licking her lips and fixing her gaze on his lips. A blush that he doesn't really see in the shadows colors her cheeks.

“Felicity…” Oliver almost groans.  He knows she’s only messing with him, but he really needs to hear her say it.

She doesn’t give in so easily.  Instead, she starts unbuttoning his army shirt from the top, a naughty smile playing on her lips.

Oliver suddenly feels his body warming up.  “I don’t think this is the right time or place for this, my love,” he tells her, his voice wobbling a bit.  He won’t deny that he seriously wants this, but he also doesn’t want to cross the line.  He’s waited this long, and he isn’t about to blow it just because his fiancée from about a minute ago seems to be flirting with him.

“Oh, I beg to disagree, my handsome Marine,” she tells him.  “I think this is the perfect time and place…” she pauses as she accomplishes the task of reaching into his shirt and pulling out the diamond ring that’s hanging around his neck with his dog tags.  “…for me to start wearing this.”

Oliver grins, ecstatic and, at the same time, embarrassed that he had misinterpreted her actions so easily.  “How did you know that I had it in there?” he asks her instead.

“Oliver, I took care of you when you got sick with malaria, remember?” she replies.  “And I’ll have you know that the ring wasn’t the only thing I discovered on your body… while you were half-conscious… and shirtless…multiple times, shirtless.” 

Once again, she teases him, and that just about makes him want to explode.  All he wants to do is to drag his fiancée to the army chaplain and have him marry them right this minute, bring her home to his own tent, and make love to his wife until the wee hours of the morning.

He struggles to keep himself together, and in doing so, he focuses his energy on pulling his dog tags over his head and unstringing her ring from the chain.  He then kneels down one more time and slips the ring onto her finger, careful not to hurt her bandaged palm. 

When he stands up again, she takes his face in both her hands and tells him, “I love you, Oliver Queen.  And yes, I would be proud and happy to become your wife.”

The kiss they shared in the woods under the moonlit, starry sky is the sweetest, most passionate one yet.  Well, probably not as sweet and passionate as the ones they shared on the night of their wedding a week later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you there's gonna be a ray of light at the end of this chapter. I just didn't want to spoil things at the beginning notes by telling you that there's going to be some fluff - which, by the way, I had so much fun writing! Considering this is quite a dark fic...
> 
> Anyways, there are no new historical facts and trivia for this one, because it is focused on action and sequence of events. But, I'd be glad to answer any questions you might have about the historical background of anything in here (as much as I am able to). Just message me in the comment box. 
> 
> I do want to mention that the flashback to Laurel and Tommy's wedding at the beginning section of this chapter was not in the original plot plan for this fic. I just added it as I wrote this chapter cause I thought it would be a good idea for the wedding/marriage to be mirrored at the end of the chapter by Olicity's engagement. Hence, there are no references to Tommy as Felicity's "step-brother-in-law" in previous chapters. I didn't think it would be a big deal, nor does it hurt the story in any way, so I went with it to add to the drama.
> 
> So, thoughts? I'd love to hear from you. :-)


	13. Legacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what's been happening to Oliver, Felicity, and the Green Arrow's team for more than a year since Felicity's rescue. Oliver and Felicity find significance in their partnership...and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should have been up last weekend, but I couldn't find the time to proof and edit. But, I've tried to squeeze in the edits little by little, so here it is now, and I hope you enjoy it! There's not much action, compared to the last two chapters. This one is mostly a narration of how the past year has gone, with special focus on Oliver and Felicity's unconventional wedding, in case you were wondering. Just a couple more chapters, and then this story is done. As always, thank you so much for reading and following. You guys are awesome!

 

**_Northern Luzon_ **

**_September 30, 1944 (more than a year later)_ **

The evening sky is not as brightly lit by moonlight tonight.  Although an average person can hardly see anything inside the hut in the relative darkness, Oliver’s dilated pupils are used to seeing in the shadows.  And he likes what he sees.

Blonde hair.  Long, wavy, and smooth.  Splayed out on the mat near his face.  It’s one of the most endearing physical qualities of his wife, and he enjoys looking at it.  He enjoys stroking it even more.  He also loves taking in the scent of aloes and coconut oil when he buries his face in her hair; the fragrance calms him after a long day of rigorous training or after coming back from a dangerous mission.

During their three-month stint in Quezon province, Eastern Luzon to train a select group of guerrilla fighters under the command of Major Bernard Anderson, Felicity had learned how to use natural remedies when soap and shampoo weren’t available.  Coconut trees were abundant in the region, and the locals have been extracting coconut oil from coconut milk for washing and nourishing hair long before the Spaniards arrived to colonize the islands.  At first, Felicity had been hesitant to try _gugo_ on her hair.  But after that one time when soap was scarce and she had almost gone a whole week without washing her fast-growing hair, she caved.  Since then, she had gotten used to this natural hair regimen.  Later on, when Francisco and Rene had found some aloe vera plants in the area, they had taught her how to use them for her hair as well. 

On most days, Felicity braids her hair so that not a strand gets in her way, especially when she’s treating the wounded or meticulously working on one or more of her gismos.  That, and the characteristically male clothing she has gotten used to wearing every day, has made her blend in with the men in every guerrilla group they’ve had to stay with since they got married and could no longer go back to the clinic in Orani.  But at night, when it’s just the two of them in whatever shelter they had to make do with, he takes pleasure in being the one to let her golden mane loose.  He just loves how her hair tumbles down her shoulders all the way down to the small of her back, how the strands slither across her smooth, ivory skin when she moves gracefully under his tender touch.  Letting her hair down has become some kind of nocturnal prompt between them, a mutual understanding of what either one would do to express to the other that intimacy is desired. 

Those kinds of nights had been sweet and special, but rare, at the beginning of their marriage.  Oliver had been occupied and focused on training Major Lapham’s men soon after their “wedding in the woods.”  The living conditions in Central Luzon had also been less than ideal for a married couple living among guerrilla fighters. 

Lapham understood the implications when he had granted Oliver’s request to marry Ms. Smoak that night that he proposed.  The Major had allowed Felicity to live amongst them for her safety and for the benefits that his guerrilla group would get given her medical know-how.  Lapham had given them a separate tent so that they could have some privacy, and most nights, they pitched that tent away from where the men usually retired for the night.  But still, sometimes they had to share the tent with one or two of the men who had gotten wounded or ill that Felicity had to care for round-the-clock.  The scenario hadn’t been much different in Major Anderson’s camp in Eastern Luzon later on.

When they arrived at Major Russell Volckmann’s headquarters in Northern Luzon about three months ago, Oliver was thankful that the Major had designated a separate hut for him and his wife.  It wasn’t the Manila Hotel, that’s for sure, but it certainly gave them the privacy they needed.  Felicity has been letting her hair down more often these days, much to her husband’s delight.  There are days he still can’t believe he has been having a taste of heaven in the midst of this hellish war, all because they’re together. 

Oliver gazes at his beautiful wife lying beside him on the mat.  Felicity is already sound asleep, and he’s glad because he thinks she deserves more hours of sleep.  Lately, she’s been unusually tired and sometimes out-of-breath.  At times, he feels she overworks herself, but he hasn’t dared broach the subject yet, knowing how engrossed she can be when she’s focused on something that she considers important. 

* * *

Felicity and Francisco Ramon have been working double-time in the past month to replicate the prototype of a contraption they’ve innovated.  She says it’s some kind of electro-mechanical device that would enable the guerrilla groups to encrypt and decrypt messages to one another without the risk of the Japanese deciphering them, should any message accidentally fall into enemy hands.  She says she had come across this communication machine, developed in the late 1920s in some of her readings about German technological innovations many years ago, before the Second World War broke out; in fact, it was one the technological advancements that had piqued her curiosity during her high school days and made her want to be an engineer working for the military. 

Oliver remembers Felicity explaining to him that the so-called encryption device known as the _Enigma_ has given Germany the edge in the war on the European front since the late 1930s.  But she quickly added that the British – as far as she could remember – have been able to make a decryption device that deciphers German enigma-encrypted messages.  She even joked that the British technology was such an explosive breakthrough, which she thought was why they decided to call the machine the _Bombe_.  Felicity, however, thought that she can do better, even with scraps and improvised parts.  She thought she can innovate encryption and decryption into one machine.

In the beginning, Major Volckmann was skeptical about her ability to contribute anything but medical assistance to the guerrilla movement.  But when Oliver showed him the prototype that she and Francisco had been working on, the Major was impressed.  They tested the device and succeeded in encrypting a secret message, but without another machine to encrypt another message in response, they couldn’t test its ability to decrypt a coded message from another source.  Volckmann ordered his men to provide the necessary parts in whatever way possible, and his best technicians to assist her in order to reproduce the encryption-decryption device that she fondly called the _Hacker_.  They succeeded in replicating the prototype, and they proved that the Hacker is just as effective as a decrypting device.

Volckmann was pleased about this development.  He was certain of its importance and value in communicating with other guerrilla groups in Luzon and perhaps even in the other islands.  If they could smuggle a Hacker safely to Mindanao and on to Australia, passing on valuable intel to the American forces there would also be more secure. 

The Major has been wanting to better organize and weld all the guerrilla groups in Northern Luzon into a single, unified force since the early part of the year, and he believed this could be done by building a strong intelligence system to channel all information about the movements of Japanese troops in the region to his headquarters.  The only hindrance to his efforts has been the lack of radio contact with the general headquarters of the Allied Intelligence Bureau in the Southwest Pacific Area or SWPA.  Things have changed since the Green Arrow and his team arrived.

Initially, Felicity simply helped Volckmann’s radio technicians make a makeshift radio operational, and that had opened communications with SWPA agents and headquarters.  But with the development of the Hacker, intel is now being broadcasted through the radios and passed on in the form of coded messages that the Japanese might be able to intercept, but will not be able to crack.  Under orders from the SWPA, Volckmann had Felicity, Francisco, and his best technicians make more Hackers for distribution to the different guerrilla groups, and arranged for one to be smuggled out of the country to Australia by an undercover SWPA agent.

Because of better communications in the past month, the previously disunited guerrilla groups in Luzon have started to band together towards common goals.  The guerrilla commanders that used to disagree have been able to find common grounds to work together despite differences in some of their more specific objectives.  Everyone now looked towards the return of the American troops to help liberate the islands from Japanese occupation.

Just a week ago, Major Volckmann shared that they had received wonderful news of the imminent return of Gen. MacArthur to the Philippines.  The Major also shared that there were reports that the bombings have already started in the Eastern Visayas region.  The SWPA wanted Volckmann’s help in coordinating the forthcoming invasion plans of the American troops in Northern Luzon. 

“In behalf of the United States Army Forces in the Philippines, Northern Luzon, I would like to thank you, Lieutenant Queen, and your wife, for everything that you’ve done here so far,” Major Volckmann gratefully expressed.  “We are grateful not just for the training you’ve provided our select group of guerrilla fighters in the use of archery for special missions.  We’re also grateful for your help in reviving and improving communications and intelligence operations in the region.  Your wife’s work with the coding machines and the radio technicians…”  The major paused and shook his head in incredulity and wonder, and then he continued, “…It’s phenomenal!  I can’t think of a better word to describe it.” 

“Thank you, Sir,” Oliver replied, with a proud smile on his lips.  “We’re glad we could help.”

“Now that… is clearly an understatement,” remarked the Major.  “What you two have done has significantly contributed to turning the tide of this war and making possible the impending liberation of the Philippines from the Japanese.” 

Oliver isn’t one to boast, but the Major is right, actually.  Oliver recognizes that he and Felicity are making a significant mark in history.  What’s even more meaningful to him is that they are doing it together.  What more could he ask for?  He is more than proud and fulfilled that together, he and Felicity are leaving behind legacies that matter, despite all the hardships they’ve been facing since the war broke out.  He considers all their sacrifices worth it.

Oliver’s fame as the Green Arrow has swept across Luzon.  His moniker is highly esteemed among the guerrilla groups in the various regions.  Now there are bands of archers in every region, valiant men and a handful of brave women who have no place to go, whom he has trained and equipped as smaller auxiliary teams for covert missions of the different guerrilla groups to support the cause of the resistance.  Because of them, the Kempeitai and the MAKAPILI have been doubling their efforts in hunting down and capturing these menacing archers – now more than ever – but to no avail.  The guerrilla groups are growing in numbers.  Volckmann’s troops in Northern Luzon alone number close to 10,000 already.

More effective, more secure communications have also paved the way for a more effective coordination and solidarity among the guerrillas and the resistance movement in the islands.  Felicity has been working with Francisco and the army technicians until sundown in recent days to make more Hackers.  Even though she gets tired at the end of the day, Oliver is happy for her – happy that she is now able to live her dream, able to do something more to help the resistance movement not just as a nurse, but also as the tech genius that she truly is. 

Oliver is also proud of her.  She has helped save many lives since the war broke out, and she has contributed in her simple but significant way to the cause of the resistance.  Yes, he admires her intelligence, her wit, her courage, and her empathy, but seeing her do what she does best both as a nurse and as a tech expert in the midst of troubled times just makes his heart soar.  That night when he and his team had rescued her from the Kempeitai, and he had seen how she fought for her own survival and dignity, he couldn’t help but admire her.  He knew right then that he had found the right reason for which she would finally agree to marry her – and that was because he and she could make a difference in this war and in this world as partners in the true sense of the word.

* * *

Barry Allen is yet another who thinks highly of Felicity.  But it is more because his dear friend and colleague has found a way to keep the legacy of his lost love, Iris West, alive. 

Iris never came back to her apartment or to the media office of the BBC in Manila after she disappeared.  Barry had done everything he could to try and locate her.  When he finally got wind that she had been arrested by the Kempeitai upon suspicion of espionage and had been imprisoned at Fort Santiago in Manila for weeks, it had been too late.  She’d been tortured to confess, but because the allegations had been false, the poor female journalist had nothing to confess – which had angered the Kempeitai even more.  She’d been released into Barry’s care, but despite the best efforts of the doctors and nurses at the Red Cross headquarters, she succumbed to complications from her injuries.  They had buried her remains at the Manila North Cemetery, and Barry had to be the one to break the painful news to her family by telegram.

Barry had grieved for her.  He still does, after more than a year.  It had been difficult packing up her belongings and sending back what he could to her family in Central City.  He had kept a few photographs of the two of them, which he had taken from her scrapbook.  He had also kept one of her journals where she wrote about how she had fallen in love with him while doing a story about Red Cross workers that volunteer for field assignments in the Pacific. 

One of the things that Barry had found difficult to part with was Iris’ ever-reliable typewriter.  He hadn’t sent it back to the States with the rest of her things, nor had he donated it to the ANRC.  Somehow, he felt that it could be put to better use, in the hands of a capable person.  That person had later turned out to be none other than Felicity Smoak Queen.

Because of the grief and anger over losing Iris, Barry had actively joined the underground movement just a few months after Oliver and Felicity had gotten married a year ago in June.  At first, his contributions were more overt and conspicuous, like joining Red Cross teams that visit the Japanese prison camps.  Last Christmas, he had gone with the Red Cross team that gave out gift boxes filled with food, coffee, and tobacco to the POWs in the Cabanatuan prison camp, the largest one housing thousands of prisoners, mostly Americans. 

That was where he met a group of prisoners that had smuggled parts of a radio into the camp when they were captured and interred there.  One of the prisoners, a skilled radio technician whom the Japanese guards ordered to repair their broken radios, had also stolen some parts to make their secret radio operational.  Under the guards’ noses, those prisoners have been using it to get news of what’s happening outside of the prison.  Unfortunately, the radio was only good for incoming transmissions.

Since then, Barry has also been actively but covertly helping out the resistance movement.  He would take in agents of the Allied Intelligence Bureau into his apartment when they were on secret spy missions in the occupied city.  That was how he had learned more about how the resistance movement was growing.  Sometimes, he smuggled quinine and other medicines needed by guerrillas, such as the Marking Guerrillas east of Manila, the Hunters group in Cavite province just south of the capital city, and the guerrillas led by Colonel Edwin Ramsey in East-Central Luzon. 

One time in early May, Barry was contacted by Major Bernard Anderson’s group from Eastern Luzon.  When he learned that the Green Arrow, his wife, and his archers were there, he carefully smuggled Iris’ old typewriter together with the medicines and supplies that they asked for, tucking a note for Felicity inside the casing of the machine.  There he wrote very concisely about his girlfriend’s demise and about his involvement with the resistance, but he did not sign his name.  He knew that Felicity would know it was from him.

Iris’ typewriter sat in Oliver and Felicity’s tent for weeks.  Initially, Felicity didn’t know what to do with it.  She contemplated on documenting the adventures of the Green Arrow, the tales of the guerrilla fighters in the boondocks, and the atrocities of war committed by the Japs.  Whenever paper was available, she had done some writing with it. 

She brought it with her to Northern Luzon three months ago.  When she overheard the technicians at Volckmann’s headquarters complaining about how communications with the SWPA had been hampered due to the lack of a working radio, the light bulb in her brilliant brain turned on.  Yes, she could easily help repair their broken radio, but what if Iris’ typewriter could be used to create a coding and decoding machine?  She knew she needed more parts, and for a few weeks she and Francisco scavenged around Volckmann’s base of operations for parts and for various gismos that could be useful in converting a simple typewriter into a machine that worked like the German enigma.  With Francisco’s help, she had developed a prototype in a month’s time.

* * *

The young Mr. Ramon has proven to be adept at technology himself.  Felicity has been encouraging him to pursue mechanical engineering when the war is over, and the young Filipino is excited about it.  It’s too bad his mother will never get to see his son shine. 

Before they left Major Lapham’s base in Central Luzon, Francisco received word from a new guerrilla recruit, who hailed from his hometown of Orion, that Aling Elena had never made it to her sister’s place in the town of Dinalupihan, Bataan.  Rumor has it that she was picked up by the Kempeitai just as she was locking her house to flee to safety (on the night Francisco and Oliver had escaped with Felicity and Rene Ramirez).  The recruit had said that witnesses near the Orion police outpost last saw Aling Elena being detained there by the Kempeitai.  The Green Arrow’s team assumed that, since no one has seen the woman for over a year now, Aling Elena had already died in the hands of the Japanese.  Francisco had mourned his mother’s death.  He was now alone in life. 

Oliver and Felicity took it upon themselves to be his family since then.  They’d look out for him, because they have discovered that Kiko was more than just a simple farm boy with a brave, patriotic heart.

Even during their time at Major Lapham’s base in Central Luzon, Francisco had already shown extraordinary skill with anything mechanical.  As soon as he had recovered from malaria, he had helped the Green Arrow in training Lapham’s selected fighters – not by becoming an archer himself, but by improving the design and make of the bows and arrows that Oliver and the archers were using.  At first, Francisco and Oliver had only managed to improve the tensile strength of the drawstrings by experimenting on various materials.  Nothing much could be done to the bamboo bows, except in improving their shape through various techniques like soaking and heating, and in selecting the best varieties of pliant yet durable bamboo for nocking arrows and shooting them straight to their targets.  

When they had moved to Major Anderson’s camp in Eastern Luzon, they met a Filipino guerrilla who had worked as a metalsmith before enlisting in the Philippine army in the war.  Soon, scraps of metal they obtained, sometimes from various missions, had been transformed and redesigned into custom-built bows for each of the archers, thanks to the combined geniuses of Felicity and Francisco.  The one for the Green Arrow had a collapsible design, and could be hidden beneath his jacket.  The arrows were still made of bamboo, but the arrowheads were now made of metal.

Oliver is proud of his wife and his “adopted” younger brother.  They may not be among the archers and fighters he’s trained, but they have definitely become a vital part of the Green Arrow’s team.

* * *

The first ray of sunlight makes Felicity open her eyes.  She hears the faint crow of a rooster in the distance.  She smiles, but she also pities the poor fowl.  It does not have the faintest idea that those will be his last few crows before the day’s designated cook roasts it for their meal later on.

Felicity has gotten used to a different kind of diet since she lived with the guerrillas in the woods and the mountains.  Fruits and coconuts are abundant in most places they’ve been.  Boiled root crops like sweet potato, yam, and cassava were a staple, because rice wasn’t easy to come by in the woods when supplies given by supportive, generous villagers ran out.  It was only when they reached Northern Luzon that they started getting a more regular supply of rice because the mountain tribes have been growing them for centuries on hillsides and mountainsides.  She and Oliver had stood in awestruck wonder when they passed through Banawe, Ifugao province and saw the magnificent rice terraces carved out on mountainsides and hillsides.

Kind and generous villagers who are sympathetic to the resistance and guerrilla movement would sometimes give vegetables and live chickens whenever some of the men have a chance to visit towns and villages _in cognito_.  They slaughter the chickens for food, but leave a few for a regular supply of eggs.  Whenever Oliver and his archers return to camp with a wild boar, everyone is happy because the camp would have roasted or cured meat for the next few days.  Feasts like that didn’t happen frequently, though, because wild boars had become increasingly hard to come by.  Everybody needs food in a time of war.

The native cloud rats are easier to find because of their abundance in the region, but they can be quite tricky to hunt.  This species of rodents is larger than any kind of rats Felicity has seen in her life.  That’s why they aren’t easily caught using small animal traps.  They are, however, less than challenging for the Green Arrow and his men.  Whenever the guys came back from a successful hunt, Felicity feels bad for the furry-tailed creatures with bamboo arrows sticking out of them.  But, they have lots of mouths to feed, so she just thanks the rodents for their sacrifice before they are slaughtered for their meat.  Rene has become quite the expert chef when it comes to cooking or roasting bushmeat from cloud rats, and over time, Felicity has learned to eat it without struggling with a host of less-than-palatable thoughts.

Life in the boondocks has been hard and inconvenient, especially for a woman.  Felicity struggled most about personal hygiene and privacy, because almost everyone in the guerrilla groups they live with are men.  Oliver and his team (especially John Diggle) have made sure, time and again, to protect her and see that the other men duly respect her.  Thankfully, there haven’t been too many incidents of impropriety because the guerrillas mostly looked up to the Green Arrow and thought highly of American nurses – except that one time when a small group of new American and Filipino recruits had gotten drunk with native _lambanog._

The inebriated guys had made Felicity the subject of dirty, malicious jokes when she happened to pass by on her way back to their tent from the make-shift clinic in Major Anderson’s camp.  Although she had felt insulted and demeaned, she hadn’t spoken about it when she came to their tent because she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.  What the intoxicated men didn’t know was that Lance Corporal Roy Harper had been within earshot.  When Roy told Oliver about what he’d heard, Oliver was infuriated.  He’d gone straight to the men’s campfire and punched the guy in the face who had called his wife the Green Arrow’s “glorified comfort woman.”  The guy’s other drunken friends had tried to gang up on Oliver, but Oliver swiftly nocked an arrow, threatening to shoot the hand of the one that first drew out his knife to start a fight.  John Diggle and Major Anderson had intervened in time, and when Roy Harper explained what had happened to provoke the leader of the archers, the Major ordered his men to apologize unequivocally to both Lieutenant Queen and Mrs. Queen.  Those men had, and there have been no more incidents like that until they had to leave for Major Volckmann’s camp in Northern Luzon.

Being the Green Arrow’s wife and teammate hasn’t been easy, but Felicity wouldn’t trade it for anything.  She is proud to fight alongside him in the ways she knows how.  She carries on because she has found her place under the sun, a renewed purpose in life.  She isn’t just some housewife or sidekick, running around the woods and the mountains to attend to the needs of her husband and his men like a lady in waiting.  She certainly isn’t a damsel in distress that sometimes gets caught in the middle of the crossfire and becomes a burden or a liability.  She is Oliver’s partner, as well as a valuable, contributing member of his team.  She appreciates that although she is cared for and protected because of her lack of combat skills, Oliver and the team have treated her as an equal and have respected her for who she is and what she is capable of.

Felicity’s other senses soon catch up with her eyes’ sensitivity to the morning light.  She can hear her husband’s steady breathing and feel the breaths that puff out gently from his nostrils against her nape.  Way back in the early months of their marriage, this used to tickle, but she eventually got used to it.  She can feel the heat from his body that’s pressed close behind her, and she’s thankful for the natural warmth, especially since it has gotten cooler in the evenings and early mornings now that wet season has come.  She feels the familiar weight of his muscular arm that’s wrapped around her midsection, like it always does when she wakes up beside him on mornings that he’s not out on a mission.  She thinks she’ll never ever get tired of mornings like this.

* * *

**_More than a year ago…_ **

“Oliver,” she tells him.  His breath on her nape causes goosebumps to break out on her skin.  “I know you’re awake, and you can hear me.” 

He doesn’t answer.  He nuzzles his face between her neck and shoulder even more closely.

“Oliver, honey, you’re doing it on purpose.  Stop!  It tickles!” she demands in faux exasperation.

Oliver thinks he doesn’t have to give in to her demand because her giggles and the way she squirms in his arms tells him otherwise.  Instead of stopping like she asked him to, he kisses her nape and shoulders repeatedly, basking in the smell of jasmine blossoms that still linger in her hair.  He could surely get used to this, he thinks.

She turns to face him suddenly, and though the passionate kiss she gives him is totally unexpected, he doesn’t mind it at all.  When she breaks the kiss and pulls away slightly, keeping her hand on his bare chest, she says, “That’s what you get for being naughty.”

“Well, if that is what I get for being naughty, then so be it.”  He pulls her flush to himself and tenderly tells her, “I love you,” like he told her countless times last night.

Last night. 

She never imagined a wedding night could be more beautiful than their first night together.  It had gone beyond her wildest dreams, even if they weren’t on a comfortable matrimonial bed covered in silk or satin sheets.  Even though the background to gentle gasps and moans exchanged between them was the otherwise annoying symphony of crickets. 

She had made love with her husband for the first time, and for a few hours they didn’t care that the world was at war.  It had been their moment.  They had lavished each other with kisses and caresses, which made them temporarily forget that they were caught in the middle of an unresolved strife that’s still taking lives by the day.  She is sure that nothing she’s experienced in her life so far would compare to the physical oneness they’d shared just a few hours ago – an intimacy that had bound their souls together in permanent union.  Whatever happens from now on, Felicity is completely certain that she and Oliver Queen will never ever be apart, and that their love will outlast their lifetimes. 

Felicity is overjoyed that they had waited.  She recalls the vacation they’d had at Dearden Ranch years ago before the war broke out. 

They had such a marvelous time together then, just the two of them, enjoying the break from their respective jobs.  On their last night together, she had wanted him so much that she felt she was going to be sick.  She had told him so the next day near their stream – more frankly than she would have liked – and he had confessed that he had felt the same way, only, he had reined in his emotions and his desires in favor of virtue, a solemn respect for her honor, and a sincere concern for her future.  He had promised to marry her when he’s ready, and she had promised to wait for him to be. 

Felicity smiles, realizing that long before she had turned down his formal proposals of marriage twice, they had actually already been engaged essentially, because of the promises they had exchanged that day. 

Now she understands that they had made the right choice, and she is grateful for it, and for everything they’ve been through.  Because each experience – the pleasant and the unpleasant – have brought them to this very moment.  The moment when they’ve finally become one.  Their first night together has been the perfect ending to a unique yet perfect day.

* * *

It had been.  Perfect, that is. 

Being a June bride would have been ideal in America, but in the Philippine islands, it wouldn’t have been wise, especially if you were getting married outdoors in the woods at the beginning of rainy season, with a bunch of rugged guerrillas as guests.  It hadn’t rained for three consecutive days, though, so Felicity had thought, “Why not go for it today?”  Felicity was afraid they would have to postpone the wedding because Oliver and his men hadn’t arrived from their mission yet, but her worries soon faded when they arrived in the early afternoon, with plenty of time for him to bathe in the nearby stream and groom himself properly to be her groom.

Meanwhile, the Green Arrow’s team had outdone themselves when it came to getting the place ready by sunset.  John, Roy, Rene, and the rest of the team had prepared a special canopy made of bamboo and coconut leaves in a wooded area on a hilltop with a breathtaking view of the sun setting on the horizon.  It had been John’s brilliant idea, remembering that Felicity was Jewish.  The guys had had absolutely no idea how to decorate the place, so they just concentrated their efforts on the canopy, which they “decorated” with green ferns and the best vines they could find in the area.  Felicity hadn’t wanted to put down her well-meaning friends by criticizing the finished product, so she had complimented their efforts instead. 

Rene had found _sampaguita_ plants on the banks of the stream near the Major’s base, and he was glad that many of its flowers were in bloom.  He picked the flowers and stringed them together to make a crown-like headpiece for Felicity and a garland for Oliver.  He brought it to them, and with a sheepish smile suggested that they wear it.

“Why, thank you very much, Rene!” Felicity said to him.  “It’s beautiful!”

Rene replied shyly, stammering a bit, “I… I’m glad you like it, Ms. Smoak.  I thought… maybe it would help make you look… more like a bride.”

“Well, I’m sure it would.  I really don’t mind wearing a guerrilla outfit to my own wedding, but this will surely make a big difference.  And they smell so, so nice!  Thank you!”  Felicity smiled at Rene and then gave him a quick hug. 

Sergeant Ray Palmer, an unsurrendered U.S. army chaplain, had solemnized the wedding.  Oliver and Felicity had exchanged vows and were pronounced husband and wife even without the traditional exchange of wedding bands to symbolize their marriage.  Oliver had said that he would buy their rings when the war is over, and that it was a really good incentive for him to survive all their missions.  Felicity had said that she didn’t mind waiting, and that her engagement ring was enough to remind her every day of the sacred vow she’d made before God and witnesses under the canopy on the hill that day.

Back at camp, Major Lapham had hosted a wedding feast with the best that they could offer under the circumstances.  A goat had been slaughtered and roasted (and neither Oliver nor Felicity cared to ask where it had come from), and the men had enjoyed plenty of _lambanog_ and a scant supply of beer. 

One of the Filipino guerrilla fighters that had travelled with them from Eastern Luzon knew how to play a guitar and had serenaded the newlyweds with a _kundiman_ ; he had sung the traditional love song in his native Tagalog language while accompanying himself on the instrument, even with one string missing.  The music had not been perfect – if the standard of perfection was the big band tunes aired on _Your Hit Parade –_ but Oliver and Felicity had still lost themselves in each other’s embrace while slow dancing as the volunteer wedding singer sang, _“Minamahal, minamahal kita…”_

They had been brought back to reality when Rene and some of the Filipino men began to pin peso bills on their clothes as they danced.  They had been puzzled by this at first, wondering why the men would waste money this way.  But they had soon understood that the one-peso and five-peso bills attached to their clothes had little to no value.  (The occupying Japanese government had printed and issued fiat currency in order to show their monopoly over the issuance of money, and had outlawed the possession and use of guerrilla money, but really, this Mickey Mouse money was hardly worth anything.)  Oliver and Felicity had thought that their Filipino friends were merely playing a game or making fun of them.  But when the song and dance were done, Rene had explained that the money dance was actually a traditional Filipino custom at weddings to wish the couple good fortune and a long, prosperous life together.  Oliver and Felicity had expressed their appreciation to the men and thanked them for their thoughtful gesture.

When the feasting was over, John, Roy, and Rene brought them back to the hilltop and showed them yet another surprise.  A few meters away from the wedding canopy, in an area almost completely covered by _acacia_ trees, the guys had set up a private wedding shed for the newlyweds in a spot they had cleared a couple of days ago.  The shed was made of bamboo, _pawid_ and _nipa,_ which made it cool enough but still assured them of privacy.  They had covered the roof with canvass, and the floor that was made from bamboo slats was slightly elevated from the ground and covered with canvass as well to keep it from getting soaked, just in case it rains.  Inside there were blankets, a couple of pillows, and a mosquito net (which were considered luxuries in most guerrilla camps), a kerosene lamp, and two canteens filled with clean drinking water.  The “honeymoon hut” wasn’t much, but Oliver and Felicity had thought it was perfect.

Just like their wedding night was.

* * *

Felicity feels the bile from her stomach rising up her throat again, just like it has every morning for the last couple of weeks, only, it’s getting worse by the day.  She takes a deep breath to keep herself from emptying her stomach where she lies encased in Oliver’s embrace.  He is still asleep, but she needs to get up and relieve herself outside the hut so as not to disturb his slumber.  She loves how he has somehow found the gift of sleep since they arrived in Major Volckmann’s headquarters in Northern Luzon where the climate is a bit cooler, and she is careful not to wake him in the mornings even when the sun is up, especially after he has been out on a mission with his men for a day or more.

Slowly, she eases her way out of his arms, and when she is finally free, she swiftly leaves their hut and heads to the nearest latrine.

Ten minutes later, she has nothing left to expel.  Cold sweat covers her forehead, face, and neck.  The retching is done, but her head is still spinning.  Her breasts feel even more tender than they did in the last few days.  She reminds herself once again that today is one more calendar day beyond her very regular monthly cycle. 

Delayed.  Never has the word given her such anxiety. 

Felicity knows the signs and symptoms.  She’s a nurse after all.  What she doesn’t know is how she’s going to tell Oliver.  She isn’t sure how he’s going to take the news.  She feels he might think that it’s not the right time, considering the less than ideal situation they’re in.  She doesn’t want him to worry or become overprotective.  She doesn’t want to be a burden and a liability.  She doesn’t want him distracted from his missions.

Yes, the Green Arrow and his team have moved from one region in Luzon to another to train select fighters – mostly men and a few women who could use bows and arrows skillfully for special missions for the different guerrilla groups.  But the other, equally important reason why they’ve had to keep moving from region to region is the threat of Deathstroke, the henchman of the Kempeitai whose sole mission is the capture and liquidation of the Green Arrow and his team.  Each time they get intel that Deathstroke is closing in on them, they would pack up and leave.  They couldn’t risk Deathstroke locating them and jeopardizing the guerrilla groups that they’re living with.

Since his first encounter with Deathstroke that night in the Kempeitai detachment in San Fernando when they had rescued Felicity, it has been a miracle that they have been evading their foe’s murderous path.  The Kempeitai’s secret weapon has succeeded in capturing and killing a few key guerrilla leaders in Southern, Central, and Eastern Luzon, but it seems he will not be satisfied until he ends the Green Arrow and his team.  Deathstroke is so hell-bent on finding and eliminating them that it almost seems personal.  Oliver still doesn’t understand why.  He knows that understanding Deathstroke’s purpose is crucial to knowing how to defeat his arch nemesis.

“How do I break this news to Oliver at such a time as this?” Felicity asks herself. 

Such news should be good news for any married couple.  Having and raising a child should be their greatest legacy, but Felicity fears that having a baby might cause more problems.  She’s sure Oliver will soon notice what’s happening with her, and her bump will eventually show, and they've agreed never to keep secrets from each other.

She doesn’t know how, but she knows she will have to tell him.  Soon.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

And now for the history and culture lessons...

  
1\. _Gugo_ is natural coconut oil extract traditionally used to wash and condition hair. Aloe vera is used to enhance growth and soften hair.

2\. _Sampaguita_ is the national flower of the Philippines. It is from the family of jasmines. It has tiny white flowers that give off a characteristically strong and fragrant scent. Street vendors in Manila string the sampaguita flowers together to make garlands. When they pick the flowers and string them, they are just buds, but by the time they are sold in the evening, the flowers are in full bloom.

3\. _Lambanog_ is native coconut wine known for its potency and its ability to make drinkers go crazy. It is also known as coconut vodka.

4\. _Pawid_ and _nipa_ are dried palm leaves and branches used in rural areas to build traditional Filipino huts and small houses.

5\. _"Minamahal, minamahal kita"_ is literally translated in English as "I'm loving, I'm loving you."   _Minamahal Kita_ is one of the most well-loved kundimans from the Tagalog region.  A _kundiman_ is a traditional art song that expresses love, often sung by a man to a woman.  It is said that the vocal genre originally came from the _awit_  (song) and  _kumintang_ (war song) of the province of Batangas in Southern Luzon.  During the Philippine Revolution against Spain, Filipinos sang _kundimans_ to express love of country and patriotism.  The woman in the love song is a metaphor for the nativeland.   _Jocelynang Baliwag_ was known as the "Kundiman of the Revolution."

6\.  The money dance is a Filipino tradition done at wedding receptions to wish newlywed couples a long and prosperous life together.  Wedding guests pin peso bills to different parts of the bride's and groom's clothes in different ways while they dance.  I've seen avid guests connect money using tape and pins and attach them like a veil to the bride's veil.  It is not usually done in the urban areas anymore, not as often as when I was a little girl (which was decades ago), but I think the tradition is still alive in the rural areas.

7\.  The _Enigma_ was invented and developed in Germany in the 1920s as an encryption machine that gave the Germans an edge in the war on the European front since the late 1930s. Later on, the British were able to develop the _Bombe_ to decipher the enigma-encrypted messages of the Germans. The U.S. also later on developed similar devices following the British specifications, but engineered differently from each other and from the British Bombe. One look at the picture of the Enigma, and I thought it looked a lot like an ordinary manual typewriter but with rotors and added parts. I am absolutely not the tech-y type, and I claim no real knowledge of machines and how telecommunication and computer gadgets actually work, so if any of you who are knowledgeable in communications technology notice anything amiss, please do forgive my ignorance. I've tried. :-)

8\. Majors Robert Lapham, Bernard Anderson, and Russell Volckmann were real people who led guerrilla groups in Luzon during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines. Volckmann did a lot to unify the guerrilla forces in Northern Luzon, was indeed asked to help in preparing for the return of the American troops in the Philippines via Northern Luzon, and had lived through the war to co-found the U.S. Special Forces later on, applying guerrilla warfare techniques learned in the boondocks in Luzon. Based on my readings, Volckmann had encountered difficulties connecting and communicating with other guerrillas and the Allied Intelligence Bureau in 1944, so I used that to set the backdrop for Felicity's contributions in communications technology in this chapter.

9\. The prison camp in Cabanatuan, Nueva Ecija province was the largest prison camp maintained by the Japanese during the occupation. At its peak, 8,000 POWs were interred there, mostly Americans, but many had died there due to illness, starvation, or physical abuse. Thousands were also shipped and transferred to other Japanese labor camps in other surrounding countries.  By the time of The Great Raid in January 1945, only 552 Allied POWs were liberated by the joint forces of the Americans and Filipino guerrillas. There really was a group of prisoners that had managed to maintain a functioning radio inside the camp without the knowledge of their Japanese guards, and the Red Cross had done relief distribution there during Christmas time.

10\. The inspiration for what happened to Iris West came from the story of Red Cross nurse Marge Utinsky, who had been interred and interrogated at the Fort Santiago in Intramuros, Manila. Unlike Iris in this story, Utinsky survived the torture and was released by the Japanese after not getting anything substantial from her. Utinsky was very active in the underground movement and had helped the guerrillas and in gathering intel for the American troops.

11\. The Banawe Rice Terraces in Ifugao province, is a World Heritage site, declared by law as a National Cultural Treasure by the Philippine government.  The terraces were carved out of the sides of mountains and hills for planting rice by the indigenous peoples about 2,000 years ago, making it the oldest rice terraces in the world.  It is a popular tourist spot in Northern Luzon.  If I'm not mistaken, it is one of the Eight Man-made Wonders of the World.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? Do let me know. Kind comments and reviews will help boost the inspiration to write the last couple of chapters for a fic that I've put the most effort into writing, so far. Again, thank you for following this story, and thank you especially to those who have clicked Kudos and those who have been faithfully leaving comments and compliments.


	14. Death and Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the secret origin of Deathstroke told through flashback. In contrast to his descent into darkness, the chapter closes with Felicity telling Oliver the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly told from Slade Wilson's POV. The tone is dark, but it is absolutely necessary at this point in the story. I hope those of you who have been waiting to find out what Deathstroke's thing against the Green Arrow is will get answers in this update. So, read on. Thank you once again for reading, especially those who leave comments and reviews. I appreciate you all.

 

**Burma & China (1939)**

Six months ago in July, he had arrived in the Bush Warfare School with 39 others from seven units of the 8th Australian Division.  The 40 of them had volunteered to be part of a special military mission that had been put together by the British Army to provide technical aid and training to the Chinese Nationalist Army, who were operating against the Japanese and resisting their impending invasion and occupation of China.  They had been honorably discharged from their units in the 8th Division and shipped to Rangoon, Burma.  From there, they had travelled by land to Maymyo. 

When they reached the training facility, there were about 200 other British soldiers there.  Most of the British volunteers had come from military units in Hong Kong, Burma, and Malaya.  A number of them had come from commando units in the Middle East.  He had learned from chatter in the barracks that some of the Britons there had been specially selected for training because of their knowledge and familiarity of the Chinese interior and terrain.

The training facility hadn’t been much, but as soon as he arrived and breathed in the fresh forest air, he knew that he belonged there.  He belonged with this special force, 250 strong, and he was going to make every single day of his training count.

Slade Wilson had been a warrior without a mission, and he had finally found one that he had determined to be proud of.  Mission 204 it had been called.  The Japanese would not stand a chance against the combined forces of the Chinese, the British, and the Australians.  They were going to sweep across the mainland and push back the invaders with scarcely a casualty.  He believed that with all his heart.

Six months later in January, the trained fighters of Mission 204 left Maymyo at last and set out for China.  They made it to an air force station at a place called Lashio, where they were loaded into vehicles with six months’ worth of rations and a huge quantity of explosives.  They journeyed down the dangerous Burma Road across to Kunming in the Chinese province of Yunnan.  There they were loaded into Chinese army trucks that transported them over snow-covered and frozen roads.  Almost three weeks later, the Australians loaded their stores and some trucks into a train.  In two days, they reached Kiyang.

By end of March, Slade and the others began to get restless.  They had not said anything to their commanders back in Burma when their departure for China had been delayed for six weeks due to administrative errors and staff incompetence – and that after Japan had already attacked.  Originally, they had been informed that the force would operate in the areas near Canton and Shanghai, but then the plan was changed and they were being sent to an area in northern Kiangsi.  That was perfectly fine with them; however, a month has passed and still nothing has happened, and they were still stuck in Kiyang.

What made things worse was the news that the head of Mission 204, Major-General Dennys, was killed in an air crash back in Kunming.  He was replaced by Brigadier General Bruce, an Indian Army officer who was also a notable Himalayan mountaineer.  Things were not looking good for the men of the mission, who were already physically fit and raring to go into battle. 

Another month of long-route marches in the mountains, continuous training, and parties that served as diversions in between passed, and finally, an order came from the headquarters in Chungking.  Mission 204 was at last ordered to operate.  Back in Burma.  The plan was to trek 275 miles by the railhead and then travel on trucks back to Lashio.  Two weeks later, they commenced by rail, but then they were brought back again.  It was getting frustrating for the men.

Another two weeks had passed, and Brig. Gen. Bruce, together with the Australian minister at Chungking, arrived at the camp, bringing the news that the force would operate in northern Kiangsi as originally planned, and would be combined with another Australian contingent commanded by a certain Major Braund. 

Slade and his Australian comrades were becoming impatient and disillusioned about the mission they had joined.  They left the 8th Division thinking that they were going to get a chance at heroism at the forefront of battle against the Japanese, but all they’ve had so far, aside from training, was one hazardous and arduous journey after another, to and from the Chinese interior.

The Australian contingent travelled northeast by rail, and then by river sampans until they reached a place called Kuantu in the province of Kiangsi by the middle of June.  There they unloaded their stores and set off towards their area of operations – over the mountains, often in heavy rain – until they reached a disease-ridden country near the northern border of the province.  A Chinese colonel informed them that they wouldn’t last a month there.

The Chinese colonel was not entirely wrong.  The contingent pushed on; however, they were depleted in number because of disease and death.  To begin with, the men’s living quarters were filthy, and more and more of them began to get sick of malaria, dysentery, and typhus. To make things worse, there was gossip going around of jealousies and distrust between one Chinese commander and another, and that treachery among the Chinese was not infrequent.  The Australians had the impression that the Chinese did not really want the help of foreign troops; they only wanted foreign equipment, and considered Mission 204 as an embarrassment to them.  

In the next several months, the men of Mission 204 lived in the mountains with the Chinese “Surprise Troops,” which were known for their ability to surprise the enemy.  They trained the Chinese in demolitions, but neither the British nor the Australian troops saw action.  The Chinese did not permit them to join the attacks on the Japanese.  There were no orders from British headquarters allowing them anywhere near the Japanese, only more orders to march.  In the march in an area west of the Nanchang-Kiukang railway, illnesses increased even more. 

Moreover, the men also did not receive any mail – something might have kept their morale and motivation going had they gotten the chance.  They also lacked food.  They had assumed upon arriving in their area of operations that the Chinese would be providing food for them, but the Chinese themselves lacked food supplies.  The Chinese soldiers scavenged and foraged for things to eat – often taking from the peasants what they could – and they expected their foreign allies to do the same.

By October, the Australians were ordered to move back to Kunming where they were met by Brig. Gen. Bruce, only to be told a disheartening news.  They were to be flown to Assam, and then taken by train to India, where they were to be shipped back home, not having seen action against the Japanese, which they had originally set their eyes and hearts on.  Who could blame them for thinking that Mission 204 had failed?  

The men were demoralized and disillusioned, but none was as disillusioned, bitter, and enraged as one Slade Wilson.  Before the men were transferred to Assam, Slade deserted.  He disappeared from the base in Kunming and went rogue, in attempt to search for a legendary Chinese freedom fighter whom he intended to convince to train him to become a _real_ warrior.

During their months of stay in the mountains of Kiangsi, Slade had heard stories of a retired military officer by the name of Yao Fei whom the Chinese people respected and looked up to.  Soldiers and peasants spoke of the man with pride, and Slade had always wondered how much of the tales of valor and heroism could truly be credited to the man.  Slade had learned that Yao Fei has been helping the Americans by discreetly and covertly training special units for special missions, and that had gotten his attention and piqued his curiosity.  He set his sights on Shanghai, where Yao Fei is said to be based.

Slade trekked the mountains, avoiding capture by Chinese or British troops that would arrest him for desertion and set him up for a court martial.  He endured the long miles, the lack of food, and the harsh elements in the early winter – this time, by himself.  With his training kicking in, he managed to survive and reach his destination, which was farther than any of the journeys that the troops of Mission 204 had undertaken altogether, whether on foot, by rail, or on trucks. 

But by the time he reached Shanghai, Slade was only half the man he used to be, consumed by his anger and overcome by an obsession to become the ultimate warrior-hero that would go against the Japanese.

Imagine his utter disappointment when, later on, Yao Fei discontinued his apprenticeship after only a month of training.

* * *

**Shanghai, China (1940)**

“I am very sorry, Mr. Wilson.  I truly am.  But I cannot in good conscience equip an angry man with methods of warfare,” Yao Fei had told Slade one night when he was sick with the flu. 

“There is something broken inside of you that no amount of training can fix.  I will not be responsible for the carnage you will leave behind if you become a skilled weapon of destruction.  Please, do something about the rage that is burning inside you.  Perhaps, when you have brought it under control, you can come to me again.”

Slade had been livid.  He had swung a fist at Yao Fei, but the older man had been quick enough to evade the blow.  Slade had known that he didn’t stand a chance; nevertheless, he had still engaged his mentor out of spite.  Because of his size and Yao Fei’s weakened body, Slade had somehow managed to pin Yao Fei down on the floor, his hands beginning to choke the man’s breath out of him. 

Just in time, Shado, Yao Fei’s daughter and a skilled archer herself, had chanced upon the skirmish.  She had rushed into her room and retrieved her bow and arrow.  Returning, she fired a shot at Slade without hesitation to save her father’s life.  Her arrow had pierced his right eye and sent him screaming and staggering backwards, freeing Yao Fei from his grasp. 

He had left Yao Fei’s house that night – seriously injured and infuriated.  He had not only been rejected by his mentor; his aspirations of grandeur as a fighter had been crushed, and he had lost 50% of his vision – by the hands of the woman that he had fallen in love with at first sight.  He couldn’t accept the irony of it.  He wouldn’t.  His pride had been wounded beyond repair, and as he healed from the physical wound that left him with only one good eye, he vowed revenge against Yao Fei and those that he held dear, beginning with his daughter.

Slade became a renegade in Chekiang province, not straying far from Shanghai where Yao Fei was based.  He wasn’t a vagrant or a vagabond, though.  He was “resourceful” enough to earn just enough for food and basic necessities in the midst of the conflict between the Japanese and the Americans.  He did favors and odd “jobs” for anyone who would agree to pay him for his services – of the spying or mercenary type – regardless of which side in the war would benefit from them.  Most of the time, he was contracted by Chinese guerrillas (who preferred to be called nationalists).  At other times, he was hired by Japanese spies, especially when they learned that he could easily go in and out of the International Zone, disguised as an American soldier.  Each time he did, he avoided any form of verbal communication almost entirely, knowing that his accent would betray him.

One time, he got wind of a secret Japanese mission to infiltrate an American base and secure a confidential file from the office of a certain Major Lawton.  The file was said to contain vital intel about the movement of American troops in China and the existence of special forces that were giving the Americans the upper hand against the Japanese in the battle for occupying Shanghai – intel that not even the commanding officer of the 4th Marine Regiment knew about. 

Slade offered his Japanese contact his services, claiming that he can easily gain access into the base through the commissary, which he had become very familiar with (all because he had been stalking Shado Fei, who currently worked in the commissary at the base).  That night, Slade and his Japanese allies successfully infiltrated the American facility at sundown and stole the file, retreating by way of the commissary to take hostages from the workers that were busy closing shop for the day.  Shado was one of those poor, unfortunate souls. 

Shado recognized Slade immediately, even with the patch that covered his lost eye.  She wasn’t afraid of him, though.  More than the courage that would drive her to fight back against her captors given the right opportunity to obtain a weapon, Shado knew that her father would come for her – if not her father, then Oliver, her father’s protégé.

Shado secretly loved Oliver Queen.  Yao Fei had introduced the handsome marine to her when they had run into each other at the commissary in the American base where she worked.  Oliver would come to the commissary for supplies, sometimes alone, sometimes with his friends.  Over time, she had developed feelings for him.  She had asked her father about him multiple times, but her father had only shared generalities about his time training Oliver and the six other American marines on Lian Yu.  What had been clear to Shado was that Oliver Queen was a stalwart soldier with a noble purpose to help make the world a better place in the midst of the chaos.  Oliver had become her American dream.  Even after she learned from Oliver’s friend Tommy Merlyn that Oliver already had someone special waiting for him in America, a nurse whom he intended to marry the next time he gets the chance to visit home.

Sadly, Oliver and Yao Fei did not arrive in time at the Japanese camp in the outskirts of the city where Shado and the other hostages were being held.  Because the hostages were of no more use to them, the Japanese spies had ordered all of them shot.  Slade personally volunteered to be among the members of the firing squad, having aimed his rifle at the woman who had spurned his affections and maimed him for life.

By the time Oliver and Yao Fei tracked down the Japs and arrived at their camp after midnight, all the hostages had been murdered.  There had been no time to grieve for Shado or bury her remains.  Both fighters immediately engaged the Japanese soldiers that came at them.  Oliver and Yao Fei got separated in the fighting.  Oliver was driven to the east side of the small camp.  Soon Yao Fei was cornered by Slade and two Japanese spies in the west side.  Slade himself jeered at and mocked his former mentor, whom he despised, and then bayoneted him to death without remorse.  That night, his vengeance was completely accomplished.

Or so he thought.

When the two Japanese spies realized that none of the other soldiers in their small unit was coming to join their escape, they did not waste any second waiting around for them.  They began to head northeast for the nearby hills.  Slade, however, instinctively felt the urge to stay and find out what had kept every single one of the Japanese soldiers from escaping.  He told the two spies that he would catch up with them soon.  He headed to the east side of the camp, and from afar, he saw one man – an American dressed in a hooded jacket just like Yao Fei.  That man single-handedly fought off and killed more than twenty armed Japs with just a bow and arrow and a knife.  That man also possessed hand-to-hand combat skills that he had never seen before. 

Slade dared not confront and challenge the man who appeared to be Yao Fei’s protégé, the one that his sought-after mentor had spoken of once or twice, the one that Shado had chosen to love instead of him.  He knew that he didn’t stand a chance.  With just the training that he had, he would lose… even die. 

No.  He would retreat for now, he would become better than the hooded stranger, and then he would hunt the man down.  In Slade’s book, no one that Yao Fei considered dear was allowed to live in this world.  No one was allowed to carry on the legacy of his despicable mentor.  And certainly, no soldier could be better than him. 

* * *

**Japan (1940-1941)**

Slade became so obsessed about being the best warrior.  Perhaps he had been mentally and emotionally unstable already as a soldier to begin with.  But combined with his rage and the rejection he had faced, he became someone else.  Something else.  Slade let the darkness in and it consumed him completely, transforming him gradually into a killing machine with only one goal – to beat the best of Yao Fei’s students, whatever the cost.

The first cost that Slade was more than willing to pay was siding completely with the Japanese.  The two spies he had worked with, put in a good word for him with the Kempeitai.  The Kempeitai brought him to Japan and indoctrinated him about their imperialist agenda for Asia, a brainwashing that reinforced his bias against the Westerners that had given him nothing but humiliation and empty promises of greatness. 

In Japan, he was introduced to a _sensei_ that specialized in Kendo training, specifically the use of the _samurai_ sword distinctively known as the _katana_.  He was subjected to the rigorous training and code of discipline and honor that was expected of _samurai_ warriors by tradition, and he embraced them completely.  This had all the more fueled his obsession of becoming the ultimate warrior, deluding himself that he was a reincarnated ancient Japanese warrior, now a champion of the modern Imperial Army.  He waited for the day that he would wield his _katana_ against the hooded stranger that constantly plagued his dreams at night, and would finally claim that man’s head as his greatest prize.

The highest cost that Slade paid – the one that finally pushed him over the edge, devoid of all reason and the remnants of a sense of humanity – was when he volunteered to become a subject in a secret Japanese military experiment.  They called it _mirakuru,_ or “the miracle.”  It was a wonder drug concocted by leading Japanese scientists that was supposed to turn ordinary mortals into super-soldiers.  Of the ten volunteers injected with the _mirakuru_ , only Slade survived.  The _mirakuru_ that coursed through his veins made him indestructible, yes, but it also made him unreasonable and unpredictable.  He became almost like a madman, and was never the same again.  He was now a lost cause.  No one would be able to get through to him, to redeem what was once an honorable soldier of the Australian military.

But if there was anything that allowed the Japanese to keep Slade under control, it was the promise of the Kempeitai that, in exchange for his help in the Pacific War, they would help him find Yao Fei’s American successor. 

Even before Slade had gone to Japan, the Japanese spies he had befriended had been able to ascertain the identity of the hooded archer using the confidential file they had stolen from Major Lawton’s office in the Shanghai base.  They identified him as one of the volunteers from the 4th Marine Regiment for a top-secret training on an island called Lian Yu.  But since the names of the marines in the file were not accompanied by photographs, Slade could not ID which one of the men was the one he had seen the night Yao Fei perished.

Armed with his new training and now a super-soldier, Slade went on a rampage; he was determined to kill the five marines that had trained with Yao Fei and had survived Lian Yu.  _No one that Yao Fei considered dear was allowed to live.  No one was allowed to carry on his legacy.  No soldier could be better than him._

The Kempeitai allowed him to travel back to Shanghai and accomplish his personal mission.  They saw it as a trial phase.  They wanted to see what he could do, now that he was a samurai-trained, _mirakuru-_ empowered brute force to reckon with.  Slade found two of the marines in Shanghai and murdered them on two separate occasions within the first month of his mission there. 

* * *

**Luzon island, the Philippines (1942-1944)**

When members of the 4th Marines were pulled out of China and transferred to the Philippines at the onset of the Japanese invasion of the Philippines, Slade followed them there. 

One of the three remaining marines he was hunting down had died in the final stand of the USAFFE forces in Corregidor Island.  In the midst of the wreckage, when he found and identified the mutilated remains of that marine in the hole where a grenade had exploded, Slade still thrust his sword into the man’s chest out of spite and hatred. 

He traced the whereabouts of one of the two remaining marines in a prison camp in Nueva Ecija province.  That man had been found in a latrine behind one of the prisoners’ quarters with his head cut off by the fearsome stroke of a blade. 

It was there that the ghost assassin had first gotten his moniker.  “Deathstroke” became the talk among the prisoners and the Japanese prison guards.  Later on, the dread of the infamous mercenary spread to the different regions of Luzon island.  He would become the secret weapon of the Kempeitai against the resistance movement.

With the growing threat of the resistance and the combined efforts of the American and Filipino guerrilla movements in Luzon, the Kempeitai assigned Slade to lead a special unit that would hunt down guerrilla leaders and terminate them.  Initially, Slade vehemently refused the new assignment because he was focused on finding the only surviving marine on his kill list.  But when the _Tai-i_ dangled in front of him the case file of the Green Arrow, he immediately accepted. 

If in going after the guerrillas he would find, capture, and slay the Green Arrow and his small band of archers that were aiding the resistance, he was more than glad to work with the Kempeitai and the MAKAPILI spies.  Why? Because he was convinced that the Green Arrow was the last marine he was looking for, the hooded stranger that had fought like a lion the night they had killed Yao Fei and Shado in that camp.  When the Kempeitai showed him all the evidence they had gathered about the hooded archer, Slade immediately recognized the design and make of the bamboo arrows the Green Arrow left on the Japanese soldiers he’d injured.  He also positively identified the Green Arrow’s combat skills and tactics as characteristic of Yao Fei’s. 

The Green Arrow became Slade’s ultimate target, the end goal of his vendetta, and the crowning glory of his achievement in the Pacific War.

The only problem was, Slade could never chance upon his target.  The Green Arrow and his men were elusive.  Slade and his underlings were able to track the archers a few times, but each time they arrived at the location where the archers were last spotted by MAKAPILI spies, the archers were long gone. 

When the Japanese caught Col. Claude Thorpe in Zambales province, resulting in the disbanding and splintering of the guerrilla group, Slade thought that he would get information from the captured guerrilla fighters.  Yet days of torture did not break those men, and none of them revealed any useful intel that would lead him to the Green Arrow or any of his men.

But on one very unexpected day, Slade got a lead on the famed guerrilla archer.

The _Tai-i_ was visiting Kempeitai headquarters in San Fernando, Pampanga and had ordered Slade to report to him there about the progress in the hunt for guerrilla leaders in Luzon and the Green Arrow’s group.  While in San Fernando, he consulted with MAKAPILI spies in the area.  He learned that someone had spotted a hooded stranger following a convoy of Kempeitai that had come from Bataan province and stopped at an abandoned rice granary that now served as the Kempeitai headquarters in Central Luzon.  Slade eagerly followed the trail of the hooded stranger like a predator stalking its prey, thinking that the man was either the Green Arrow himself or one of his men. 

Unknown to Slade, he was tracking Simon Ibarra, one of the two trusted men that Oliver had sent to accompany Felicity back to the clinic in Orani after she had spent a few weeks with them in the mountains because of the malaria outbreak in their camp.  He stumbled upon Simon surveilling the Kempeitai headquarters near the rear perimeter fence, but he did not engage the man.  By his size and skin color, Slade was sure the hooded stranger was not the American marine-turned-guerrilla that he was looking for.  So, he decided instead to lie in wait for what the man would do.

Reporting to the _Tai-i_ later that day, Slade learned that an American nurse, who has been linked to the resistance, and specifically, to the Green Arrow, had been arrested in Bataan and brought to the facility.  Slade immediately put two and two together and concluded that there was indeed a connection between the woman and the Green Arrow for one of his archers to be following her.  He also speculated that since the hooded archer had surveilled the facility earlier that day and then retreated into the woods, the Green Arrow must be putting together a rescue mission to get this woman back.  And given the number of Japanese soldiers and Kempeitai officers in the headquarters presently, Slade deduced that the woman being held and interrogated there must mean something more to the Green Arrow than just a mere acquaintance for him to risk his life and the lives of his small band of archers in an effort to go after her.  Slade knew that no independent guerrilla group in the area would attempt a suicide mission just to rescue one Red Cross staff from a heavily guarded facility that was currently housing the _Tai-i_ of the Kempeitai.

Slade couldn’t wait for the Green Arrow and his men to come.  He was finally going to meet his match.

The success of the rescue mission was a big blow to the Kempeitai, and the _Tai-i_ was enraged by how a small group of guerrillas were able to breach their headquarters and free the American nurse.  Two of the higher-ranking officers under the _Tai-i’s_ command responded to the humiliation and failure by committing suicide in front of their leader. 

Slade Wilson was just as furious and frustrated because the Green Arrow and his men (with the exception of one) had escaped after the barrage of bullets from the machine guns of Japanese soldiers had interrupted their duel near the perimeter fence.  But unlike the Japanese, Slade believed that suicide due to failure was an act of pure cowardice.  More than ever before, he sought to find and kill the Green Arrow, not anymore as just a part of his vendetta against Yao Fei, but in order to gain back some of the pride he had lost that night when his arch-enemy slipped through his fingers.

In the year that followed, Slade and his spies succeeded in tracking the Green Arrow a few times, but they never actually found him in any of the locations they expected to find him.  They tracked him in Central Luzon where he was believed to be associated with Major Robert Lapham’s guerrilla force.  They didn’t find him there, neither did they find Lapham’s base of operations.  With the help of MAKAPILI spies, they tracked him in Eastern Luzon where he was said to have been helping to train the guerrillas under a certain Major Anderson.  But again, when they found Major Anderson’s camp, it was already deserted.  Even the Green Arrow’s camp was nowhere to be found.

Slade grew more and more impatient as the months went by.  As Deathstroke, he had caught and executed several guerrilla leaders and high-ranking fighters with his own sword, but his ultimate target continued to evade his blade. 

In the past several weeks, their job became even more difficult because apparently, the guerrilla groups had developed a new means of communication that enabled them to send secret messages to one another that the Japanese could not decipher.  Even the MAKAPILI spies could offer no new leads.  The Kempeitai was becoming anxious as news of the imminent return of American troops threatened their control over the islands.

Slade’s anger increased by the day.  He would not accept ultimate defeat.  He swore by his sensei’s name that once he captures the Green Arrow, he would kill him, his men, and the American nurse now believed to have become his wife.  He vowed to bring the man’s head back to Japan as a gift to his master.

Finally, one day in early October 1944, in the midst of the threat posed against the Japanese Imperial Army in the Philippines by the advancing American naval troops from the East, Slade got the break he has been anxiously waiting for, for months.  The Green Arrow was spotted in Northern Luzon and was believed to have allied himself with the thousand-man strong guerrilla forces of a Major Volckmann.  Slade and Japanese minions began their journey north.

* * *

**Northern Luzon**

**October 26, 1944**

“Felicity!” Oliver calls his wife excitedly as he enters their hut.

As soon as he enters, he sees Felicity sitting on their mat inside the tent-like mosquito net.  Even in the dim light of the kerosene lamp, he sees his wife with her hair down, and he smiles.  She is combing through her long, wavy blonde tresses.  For a brief moment, he forgets the wonderful news he brings.  All he can think about is what his wife most probably has in mind for the evening, and he becomes all the more thrilled.  This day is certainly among the few best days in this war, he thinks.  His internal reverie is cut short by Felicity asking a question.

“What has you so excited, Oliver?”

“Oh, uhm… There’s wonderful news!”

“What news?” she asks again, this time turning around to face him in anticipation of the good news.

Oliver lifts the edges of the mosquito net to join her on the mat inside.  He plants a chaste kiss on her lips and eagerly tells her, “Our troops are back!  MacArthur landed on Leyte, Eastern Visayas today.  The liberation of the islands has begun!”

“Really?! That is wonderful!” she exclaims, hugging her husband as her eyes pool with joyful tears.  “Are they sure?” she asks him when she pulls back.

“Yes!  I was there when Volckmann received word over the radio.  The good news is already being transmitted through the major guerrilla frequencies.  The guys at the station are now busy encrypting the details of the return of the troops using the Hacker.  Once they’re ready, the couriers will be dispatched all over Luzon,” Oliver replies.

Oliver further explains that the troops expect to engage the resisting Japanese forces in Leyte Gulf in the coming days, but that the prospect of winning that battle is very good. 

Major Volckmann earlier pointed out to him that, since the Japanese clearly underestimated and miscalculated the strength of the U.S naval and air forces, the ensuing battle would not take very long.  Volckmann surmised that as soon as the U.S. troops advance from the East, the next strategic island to reclaim is Mindoro, which is just south of Luzon and could well be the key to penetrating the Manila Bay from the south.  Volckmann also explained that General MacArthur’s plan was to invade Luzon not just from the south, but also from the north, hemming in the Japanese troops and pushing them from both sides until the capital city of Manila is liberated.  Volckmann believed that this was why SWPA headquarters had initially asked his guerrilla forces to prepare Northern Luzon for the arrival of the American troops there.

Oliver and Felicity talk some more about the implications of the return of their troops to the islands, and then they say their evening prayers.  They thank God for the best news they’ve received so far in the last few years, and they ask for the success of the liberation efforts. 

Oliver comes out of the mosquito net and puts out the light of the kerosene lamp, leaving only the moonlight seeping through the slits between the nipa walls of the hut to let them somehow see in the shadows.  Felicity lies down on the mat, her back turned against where her husband is supposed to lie on. 

Oliver comes back to join her, grinning like a giddy kid expecting a treat.  He moves closer to his wife and kisses her hair.  It doesn’t quite achieve his desired effect, so he clears her neck and shoulder from soft strands of hair and proceeds to kiss her smooth skin.  She moans and giggles, and then she turns to face him.

“Do you think you can handle more good news?” Felicity asks with a nervous smile.

Even in the shadows, he thinks he sees the sparkle in his wife’s blue eyes.  “Honey, I think that with everything we’ve been through in this war, we have more than enough room to receive all the good news we can get.  What is it?” Oliver asks confidently, totally unaware of what was coming.

Felicity cups his stubbly jaw with her hand and bites her lower lip.  She takes a deep breath and tells him sweetly and shyly, “You, Second Lieutenant Oliver Queen, are going to be a father in… approximately seven to eight months.”

Oliver is quiet for a beat, and Felicity gets a bit anxious that maybe the news she just shared with him isn’t achieving her desired effect.  So, she clears her throat and tries again.  “Oliver, we’re going to a have a baby.”

His wife’s words sink in slowly, and as reality dawns on him, his face gradually breaks out with a tender smile.  Even in the shadows, she sees the sparkle in her husband’s pearly whites as he grins from ear to ear. 

“Are you sure?” he asks her.  “I mean, I have noticed that you’ve not really been… well.  But I really didn’t think--”

Felicity interrupts him excitedly.  “I’m a nurse, Oliver.  And I’ve actually waited a few weeks after my period didn’t… you know… so, yeah.  I’m pretty sure you are officially responsible for this little person growing inside me… and making me dizzy, nauseous, and more tiresome every single day.  I’ve stopped counting the number of times I’ve had to pee in a day.  And you won’t believe it, but I think I’m having cravings for green mangoes.  Wait.  Green mangoes.  Green Arrow.  That’s not just a coincidence, right?  I hope our kid doesn’t come out all green and--”

Oliver captured her lips in a passionate kiss, which she returns just as passionately.

When they break the kiss and pull back slightly, his hand still rubbing circles on her back, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“As I said, I wanted to be sure,” she answers.  “Are you happy?” she asks.

“I most definitely am,” he replies, kissing her on the nose.  “Today has been… I don’t recall I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life.  First, our troops are back.  And now, you are… _we_ are expecting.  I… I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that you are carrying our child.” 

She smiles brightly in the shadows.  She asks, “You’re not afraid of what might happen?  I mean, this war isn’t over and…”

“Felicity, this war hasn’t stopped us from being together, has it?  What makes you think it’s going to keep us from having a child?  When I asked you to marry me, I’ve thought about this possibility, and I still made the choice.  I want you to know that I’m going to do my very best to protect you and our child.  I won’t let anything happen to the both of you.”

Felicity’s heart is overflowing with mirth and pride.  Oliver is really different now.  He has come out of the darkness that had engulfed him for the last several years.  He has certainly come a long, long way, and she likes to think she had something to do with that. 

“Felicity, there’s a baby inside you,” he says.  He still can’t quite get over the news.

“And he’s your son,” she tells him, smiling affectionately as a lone, happy tear escapes her eye and rolls down her cheek.

“He?  How sure are you that we’re having a boy?” he asks incredulously.

“Oh, just a hunch.  And so you know, I’m hardly wrong.”  She winks at him.

Oliver places his hand on her still flat stomach and caresses it with his thumb.  “Hey, junior.  Your mother thinks you’re going to be a boy, so I’m calling you junior for now.  I can’t wait to meet you, son.  In the meantime, you just make yourself comfortable in there.  I’ll take care of you and your mother.  Let’s hope this war is over by the time you have to come out.”

Felicity chuckles, partly because his thumb strokes tickle her belly and partly because she loves what her husband is saying to their unborn child.

“I love you,” Oliver says as he pulls her into his chest and envelops her in his strong arms.

“I love you.”  Felicity sighs contentedly in his embrace.

That night they make love like never before.  They celebrate the life they’ve shared together so far, as well as the new life inside her that they’ve been blessed with in the midst of the trials and triumphs of war. 

They fall asleep soundly afterwards, oblivious to the approach of a menacing threat, as the deranged warrior that’s hell-bent on liquidating the Green Arrow and his team advances, one cautious day at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now Oliver knows he's going to be a father soon. And the troops are back! Yey! But so is Deathstroke. We're building up to the climax now, so hang in there. I'm ready to wind up the story now, and the denouement is pretty much set, but if there's anything you'd like to see in the last couple of chapters, I'm welcoming suggestions. Do let me know, and I'll see if I can fit them in.
> 
> History lessons:  
> 1\. MISSION 204 (also known as Tulip Force) was real. The British Army did put together a special group of 250 British and Australian volunteers and trained them in Burma to provide military and technical support to Chinese guerrillas against the invading Japanese during the Pacific War. But as I've shown, Mission 204 (specifically the Australians) never did see action against the Japanese until they were sent home from India. Most of the things I included in this chapter are based on documented accounts of their tour of duty except the time frame. Mission 204 was put together in 1941, not 1939, but I had to adjust the time frame to fit the time frame I've placed Oliver in China serving with the 4th Marine Regiment. Again, I learned many new things from the research for this part of the story, but I especially appreciated the contributions of the Australians to the Allied forces during World War II.
> 
> 2\. The Leyte landings were a historic milestone for the Americans and the Filipinos during the Pacific War. The bombings started in late September 1944, but Gen. Douglas MacArthur landed on the islands eastern shore on October 20, where he said the famous, "I have returned." The famous Battle of Leyte Gulf took place on October 23-26. It was a decisive victory for the U.S. Navy, which destroyed what was left of the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) that had already lost all of its aircraft carrier forces, many of its battleships and heavy cruisers, and a large number of light cruisers and destroyers. The IJN was never able to fight a major battle again after this. The Japanese could not keep the advance of the American troops from the East, and soon even the island of Mindoro south of Luzon was reclaimed. The Americans pushed the Japanese back northward from there. Soon, they also pushed the Japanese southward after more of their troops landed in Lingayen Gulf, northwestern Luzon. The Japanese troops were eventually trapped in between and driven to the mountains. The rest, as they say, is history.
> 
> Filipino culture lesson:  
> 1\. Green mangoes are very sour, but people still love to eat it (except me, I guess). The unripe fruit is peeled and then eaten with salt or bagoong (salted shrimp paste). Many pregnant women who crave for sour foods eat green mangoes with zest.  
> 2\. Traditionally, pregnancy cravings are tied to how babies turn out when they are born. For instance, I was told that I came out with fairer skin than my brother's because my mother had craved for powdered milk and sugarcane while she was pregnant with me, while she craved for chocolates when she was pregnant with my brother. This belief among locals is not only tied to food cravings. Sometimes it's tied to whoever a pregnant woman becomes so fond of during her pregnancy. For example, a pregnant woman who is fond of chinky-eyed celebrities might give birth to a baby with chinky eyes. I'd like to think that both my children have beautiful eyes and flattering eyelashes because I used to stare at my husband at night while he was sleeping when I was pregnant, thinking how beautiful his eyes and lashes were. Haha! Of course, I knew better that this was hereditary. There is no scientific basis for this cultural phenomenon of linking pregnancy cravings with how babies turn out when they're born, but people still can't get rid of this way of thinking.


	15. Face Off with Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Green Arrow and his team participate in the liberation efforts of the American troops, including raids to free prisoners of war. He and his fierce enemy finally face off. Blood and tears are shed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry it took this long for an update. But this chapter was REALLY difficult to write, and I struggled with it, being more of a writer of romance than a writer of action scenes. I'm a bit nervous about how it turned out, but I did my best, and that's good enough for me. I can only hope I did justice to the story and the action that I pictured in my head. This is the penultimate chapter, so please do let me know what you think of the update or the story as a whole. 
> 
> This is the longest chapter so far. I could tell you to "sit back," but maybe it wouldn't be fair to tell you to "relax," because you are in for a rough ride. Enjoy! :-)
> 
> Warning: character death, action and war-related violence

 

**Talavera, Nueva Ecija (Central Luzon)**

**February 3, 1945**

“Felicity, I’ve got this,” Barry tells his dear friend in the imperative.  He’s already a tad bit annoyed that he has to tell her this for the third time.  “You go on to the staff quarters and take a break.  You _really_ look like you need it.” 

Barry can see it in her pallid face, drooping eyelids, and shallow breathing.  She is tired, more than she would care to admit.  He knows that she would not take a suggestion, despite the condition she is in.  He knows her too well to see how stubborn she can be at times.  Sure, the morning sickness is almost completely gone (as she is already in the middle of her second trimester and her baby bump can no longer be hidden), but she can’t deny that the extra weight she is carrying in her belly is giving her a harder time to stay longer on her feet. 

“Don’t worry about me.  I’m fine,” Felicity responds in the negative, as she wipes the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her blouse.  She stubbornly holds on to the suturing kit, not making eye contact with Barry, who is about to stitch up the gaping wound on a patient’s leg.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.  It’s the little one in there,” Barry tells her, pointing his chin in the direction of her midsection.  He tries once more to convince her.  “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for the baby.”  He then pauses and smirks, and tells her, “And you know what?  Do it for me.  I don’t even want to think about what Oliver would do to me if something happened to you under my watch.”  He tries to make it sound like a joke, but he actually means it.  He does not want to get into trouble when Oliver returns and finds out that he let his wife overwork herself, but more importantly, he is not going to let anything happen to his would-be god-child. 

Felicity heaves a sigh, which she realizes she has been holding in for the last few minutes or so.  She is torn between her natural instinct to protect the baby in her womb and her sense of duty to the injured American scouts and rangers, the Filipino guerrillas, and the many liberated but emaciated POWs whose health had severely suffered in the last two years of internment.

For the past three months, Oliver and his band of archers – namely, John Diggle, Roy Harper, Rene Ramirez, and three new recruits from Major Volckmann’s guerrilla group – had been providing assistance to the American troops that had landed on Lingayen Gulf on the 9th of January.  Some of the troops that numbered 175,000 had been tasked to help the joint efforts of Filipino and American guerrillas in Northern Luzon in subduing the Japanese that had retreated in the mountains behind the Yamashita line, while the rest have been advancing south towards Manila, sweeping villages, towns, and cities and liberating them from the Japanese.  Oliver and his team had joined the latter. 

When Oliver and the team learned about the plans were underway to liberate the POWs in the Cabanatuan internment camp through their good friend Major Lapham, they had taken leave from the help they were providing the troops in order to participate in the raid.  Lieutenant General Walter Kreuger had given them permission to join the special mission and had endorsed them to his intelligence chief Colonel Horton White.  Oliver had been eager to have the opportunity to work with Lapham again, and to work with one of the bravest, well-respected Filipino guerrilla leaders in central and southern Luzon, Captain Juan Pajota.

But there was another reason that Oliver had wanted to deviate temporarily from the path of liberation they had gone on as a team.  He had not forgotten about the POWs in a smaller camp near the border of Nueva Ecija and Pampanga, as well as the promise he had made there the night they had secured quinine for his malaria-stricken men, the same night they had found John Diggle.  En route to rendezvous with the combined forces of Alamo scouts, rangers, and guerrillas near Cabanatuan, his team of seven archers raided that smaller camp and freed the prisoners there.  Their success had inspired and emboldened the raiders of Cabanatuan to push on, despite the many calculated risks and dangers that lay ahead.  And sure enough, what later on became known as “The Great Raid” on January 30, 1945 had been successful indeed.

In the aftermath of that daring rescue of about 500 POWs, most of which were surrendered American military personnel, there had been an enormous number of patients needing medical attention in the makeshift hospital set up in the nearby town of Talavera.  When Felicity heard of it, she had volunteered to serve with the Red Cross once again, and there, her and Barry’s paths had crossed again.  

Felicity arrived at the hospital in Talavera just the other day – the same day that Oliver left with John and the rest of the team to join the raids of the Sto. Tomas Civilian Internment Camp in Manila and of the Bilibid Prison in Muntinlupa.  Oliver left his wife under Barry’s care until his return.

Felicity has always been a hard-working nurse, but Barry couldn’t help but notice how she has been keeping herself too busy for her own good, and the baby’s.  He worries that she’s spreading herself too thinly now that she’s expecting in three or four months.  He knows why she’s trying her best to focus on work: she’s trying to keep her mind preoccupied so that she won’t have to worry about her husband’s safety.  Unfortunately, she isn’t doing very well at distracting herself.

Today is the day of the raid in Manila.  Tomorrow will be the one in Muntinlupa. 

She still remembers the last thing Oliver told her before he held her in his arms and kissed her, and then walked away from her once again:

_“I’ll be back soon.  Take care of yourself… and junior.”  He had made her promise, as he laid his hand on her baby bump.  And then he had said, “I love you… both of you.”_

With that memory, and the reminder of a promise, Felicity bites her lip and concedes.  “Alright.  If you need me, you know where to find me,” she says to Barry.  She flashes him a small smile to try to mask the expression of surrender on her face, and then she hands him the suture kit.

Felicity makes her way to the staff quarters and is relieved to find no one else there.  She is grateful for some peace and quiet, and she makes up her mind that she will enjoy it while it lasts.  She knows that soon, someone else might join her in the small, cramped room. 

After drinking a glass of water, she lies down on her cot, bending her knees so she could reach her aching feet and massage them one at a time.  She sighs, because she realizes that in a couple of months or less, this simple task might not be as easy as it is now, and that she might need someone else’s assistance for it, preferably her darling husband’s – which brings her back to the anxious thoughts of him that she’s been struggling to avoid all day.

* * *

She knows that worrying brings with it an undue amount of stress.  And although she is aware that this is not really a good pastime for expectant mothers like her, she finds that she just can’t help it at times.  Lately, Oliver has been calling her out on it, wondering why she can’t get used to the fact that he would always be in harm’s way because of the life he leads.  He has been on countless Green Arrow missions, some more precarious than others, but she will never get used to him facing off with danger, each time with the possibility that he may never come home to her.  The worry has only increased with time, especially since Deathstroke – whom she has come to call the “serial guerrilla killer” – reappeared from the shadows in early November and began to torment Oliver and the team wherever they went on missions in Northern Luzon.

The Kempeitai’s assassin had been hot on the Green Arrow’s trail for weeks since their first unexpected encounter after several months.  The Green Arrow and his team had managed to evade Deathstroke’s small but skilled contingent of Japanese mercenaries with the help of Major Volckmann’s men and some locals sympathetic to the resistance movement that would warn them of the enemy’s approaching threat.  However, they eventually had to part ways with Volckmann, who had reluctantly let them go after more than thirty of his men had been slaughtered by Deathstroke’s blade. 

Those brave guerrillas had tried to hold off Deathstroke’s group at a mountain pass in Benguet province in Northern Luzon in order to allow the Green Arrow and his team to escape down a mountain pass with valuable intel for Major Volckmann.  (The intel was about an order from General Tomoyuki Yamashita, the “Tiger of Malaya” himself, to transfer the puppet president of the Philippines, Jose Laurel, from Manila to Baguio City due to the threat of American troops closing in on the capital city.)  Oliver knew that Deathstroke’s personal vendetta would jeopardize Volckmann’s operations in Northern Luzon.  He couldn’t take that risk, not while the Major was preparing to assist the arriving American troops in liberating Northern Luzon. 

Thus, he, Felicity, and the team bid their comrades farewell.  They travelled on horseback westward, and then southward, down the western coastline to Pangasinan province to join the guerrilla groups there in anticipating the landing of American troops in Lingayen Gulf.  It took them more than a week to reach their destination.  They had to go slow because of Felicity’s condition; traveling on horseback was not ideal (or safe) for a pregnant woman in her first trimester, Oliver knew that.  When they passed through the province of La Union, they had met a local farmer who had graciously loaned them one of his carts.  Rene and Roy had managed to hitch the cart onto John’s horse in no time, and soon they had gone on their way, with Felicity safely resting in the cart all the way to their destination.  They arrived just a few days shy of the arrival of the American troops on the beaches of Lingayen Gulf.

Even then, Felicity couldn’t shake off her fears that one day, Deathstroke would finally catch up with them and finish them off.  She has faith in Oliver, who is a fantastic archer with a flawless aim and is also highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but the swordsmanship of his arch-enemy frightens her.  The lunatic’s murderous streak frightens her even more.  She feels that Deathstroke will stop at nothing until the Green Arrow is dead.  The worst part is, she doesn’t even understand why the man is hell-bent on eliminating her hero.

She had seen that in the man’s eye that one time she had gone with them on a mission in the province of Isabela.  They had needed her to come along because the guerrilla fighters there, that had asked for their help in breaching a Japanese garrison, had requested that they bring along someone who could fix their Hacker box.  That had been a harrowing experience for her, coming face to face with Deathstroke once again since her rescue from the Kempeitai detachment in San Fernando several months ago.  More than a dozen Filipino guerrillas perished that night, and their team had barely made it out of the garrison alive.  Oliver had sustained a deep cut on his arm when he faced off with Deathstroke, and had only managed to escape from the one-eyed henchman’s choke hold when John fired at his opponent from more than 20 feet away and hit his target on the shoulder.  Felicity, having taken cover with Roy and Rene, had seen the rage that was written all over Deathstroke’s face as he shouted a thunderous threat that next time, the Green Arrow will not escape his sword.

Since then, Felicity has increasingly feared for her husband’s life.  Every single day.  She knows better than to convince Oliver to stop fighting and just go into hiding among the troops until the war is over and they are able to go home to Starling or San Diego.  (Perhaps Deathstroke will not be able to follow them there anymore.)  She knows that Oliver is not a coward, and deep within her she believes that she is neither.  Nevertheless, worry gnaws at her from the inside, and it seems like she can’t overcome it.  Even if they haven’t encountered Deathstroke for almost two months now.

The team isn’t sure why Deathstroke seems to have stopped pursued them since they left Volckmann’s base after the Benguet incident.  Rene thinks that perhaps Deathstroke simply quit after being shot in the shoulder, but the rest of the guys disagree.  John thinks he has been recalled by the Japs and reassigned to more critical areas of defense against the invading American troops.  Oliver thinks the guerrilla slayer is only biding the time as he strategizes with the Kempeitai and the MAKAPILI.  Like him, Felicity is wary that this might be just the calm before the storm.  Every day that passes is like holding their breath.  Even taking the trip to Nueva Ecija for the raid was a risk that they had taken so that the team could help out in the rescue mission to free the POWs in Cabanatuan.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Oliver and the team, Deathstroke had been ordered to assist the transfer of President Laurel to Baguio City, since he and his men had been in the vicinity at the time.  Slade Wilson had obliged the Japanese high command in order to stay in their good graces and be allowed to continue his personal vendetta against the Green Arrow.  Slade had thought that as soon as the president got settled, he could go back to hunting his prey, but he thought wrong.  The Japanese soon ordered him and his men to personally chaperon a covert mission to smuggle ill-gotten treasure behind the Yamashita line and help hide it permanently in a strategic yet secret location in case the American invasion succeeds and Japan has to surrender the islands unconditionally.  Slade had been furious, especially since he did not know how long this irksome distraction and delay was going to take, but he could not protest when the Kempeitai threatened to have him arrested for insubordination and send him back to Japan as a prisoner to face the military court.

But Oliver and the team do not know this.  Felicity does not know this.  So, despite the Deathstroke-less days they seem to be enjoying for the time being, she is still quite anxious.  Oliver has tried to comfort and assure her that everything will be okay.  Outwardly, she feigns courage and masks her fears with her sunshiny smile to boost her husband’s morale, but inwardly, she battles worry every day.  Sometimes she feels guilty because she knows she’s not completely honest with Oliver, and in a way, she is also putting their unborn child at risk.  She doesn’t want to be a nervous wreck, and she tries hard to resist the temptation to worry, especially at times when Oliver and the team have to leave on a mission. 

Like today.  She wonders if the raid in Manila has been successful.  There is still no word.

Felicity closes her eyes and rests her forearm on her forehead as she lies on her cot.  “Oh, dear God, please bring my Oliver back safe,” she prays.  A lone tear rolls down her temple, and she stifles a sniffle when another Red Cross volunteer enters the staff quarters.

Three days later, she wakes up in the same quarters at half-past midnight to the feel of Oliver’s scruff on her cheek and the sound of his voice near her ear, softly saying, “Hey, honey.  Miss me?”

“Sure did,” she whispers back, as she cradles his cheek in the palm of her hand.  She touches her stomach as she adds, “We both did.  You missed the first time he kicked.”  She smiles, her eyes tearing up.

Even in the shadows, and with his face partly hidden by his dark green hood, Felicity sees Oliver’s winsome smile – the smile he reserves only for her.  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he responds.  “Don’t be.  I’m just grateful that you’re back safe,” she tells him.  She is happy to hear that both missions to free prisoners of war and civilians have been successful, but she is happier to see her husband come home to her unscathed.

* * *

**February 28, 1945**

It has been five days since the scheduled raid of the Japanese prison camp in Los Baños, Laguna province, south of Manila.  Oliver and the rest of the team had gone to help out once more, but they haven’t returned, even after news from the radio feeds have announced the success of the operation.  Felicity is very worried.

Upon her request, Barry has sent word to Major Lapham, asking if he and his men had gotten wind of the details of how the raid had turned out.  Their main concern was to inquire if anyone knew the whereabouts of the Green Arrow and his team, and if there were any casualties among the American troops.

They’ve gotten some wonderful news: the Americans have penetrated the Japanese defenses in Manila and are wrapping up efforts in ridding the city of the Japanese remnants who staunchly and stubbornly stand their ground despite the odds; Corregidor Island has been reclaimed from the Japanese yesterday, and the Manila Bay is secured; and today, American troops have invaded the island of Palawan.  So far, the liberation efforts have been triumphant, and it is just a matter of time before the Japanese are trapped between a rock and a hard place and are forced to surrender. 

Felicity is genuinely happy about the developments, but her concern for Oliver and the team, who have not returned, overshadow any kind of pleasure that the series of good news around her brings.  The baby in her womb has been restless all day.  There has been more movement in her belly today than any other day, and she feels bad that maybe it’s her fault.  She suspects that the baby can sense her apprehensions and agitation, and that adds to her worries.

Felicity asks Barry if someone else could relieve her from her post.  She tells him that she feels unusually exhausted even if she has just started her shift a few of hours ago. 

“Go get some rest, Felicity,” Barry says to her.  “And I know it’s hard, but please try to stop thinking about… you know what.  Worrying does nothing to bring Oliver and his team back sooner.” 

She knows he’s right, and she simply nods in silence.  She thanks him by squeezing his arm, and then she retreats from the triage to the staff quarters.

But as she turns away from Barry, a familiar face catches her attention.  There at the entrance to the hospital triage was John Diggle.  “John,” she utters with a gasp.  John walks towards her with an expression on his face that foreshadows terrible news that she almost does not want to hear.

She meets him halfway, and though her smaller strides are calm, the heart pounding in her chest is not.  She stands in front of her friend and looks up to meet his gaze.  What she sees in his eyes are pain and pity, as he holds back tears and wordlessly figures out what to say to her.  Her arms come up to embrace her torso, like they had a mind of their own, as if by the gesture she could shield herself from the arrow that was about to pierce her heart.

“John?”  She utters his name as a question begging for an honest answer.

John’s lips quiver.  He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again.

“John…” she pleads once more.

A tear falls from the corner of his eye as he tells her, “After we got everyone out, we were ambushed at the beach.  We lost the new guys… and Roy.”  He swallows hard, and then he continues, “Rene was wounded, but he’s going to recover.”

Felicity takes a deep breath and bravely asks with a trembling voice, “And Oliver?”

“Oliver defeated _him_.  Deathstroke is dead,” he replies with some confidence, but the spark in his voice soon dies.  “Oliver was severely injured, Felicity.  He lost a lot of blood before a medic could get to him, and by the time we got him to a hospital…”

“What are you saying?”  Felicity’s voice becomes more frantic now.  John holds her shoulders with both his hands to make sure she’s steady when he breaks the news. 

“They did surgery to try to repair the damage in his abdomen caused by…”  John hesitates.

“By Deathstroke’s blade?” she asks, too quickly that her words are almost unintelligible. 

John simply nods. 

After a few seconds, during which Felicity has begun to cry, he finishes telling her the news.  “He crashed on the operating table, but they were able to revive him.  When I left to come here, his vitals were still unstable.  The doctors are doing everything they can to save him, but…” 

“But they don’t think he’s going to make it…”    

Felicity’s knees buckle as she finishes the sentence for him.  She almost slumps to the floor, but John is quick enough to catch her and pull her in for a desperate hug.  “He’s holding on, Felicity.  He’s waiting for you,” he tells her.

She buries her face in her friend’s chest and cries.  She lets all her pain out with her sobs.  She can’t breathe.  She forgets how to, because her heart is being ripped apart as she pictures the man she loves fighting for his life, surrounded by strangers yet alone.  Him dying is already too painful for her to bear, but him dying without her by his side is worse.  Him dying without having seen their child at all is the worst.

“Shh, shh…”  John tries to comfort her, but he knows that in such a situation, his friend may be inconsolable.  He knows she loves Oliver more than she loves herself.  So, he appeals to reason and to the love that she has for their unborn child.  “Hey, hey… You have a baby to think of, remember?  We don’t want something bad to happen to him, do we?” he whispers.

Felicity pulls back and wipes her tears with the back of her hand.  Her vision is still foggy, and she can hardly breathe with a congested nose, but she asks desperately, “Where is he?  I need to see him.”

“He’s in Manila, with Rene… in the hospital at the Santo Tomas Internment Camp that we liberated a few weeks ago.  We have to hurry.  He doesn’t have much time.”

Time.  None of it is wasted. 

Upon learning of Oliver’s situation and Felicity’s predicament, Barry immediately appeals to the chief nurse of the Talavera hospital to give Felicity indefinite leave from service and to allow her to go and see her husband in Manila.  The chief nurse does not need a lot of convincing; the older woman holds the Green Arrow and his team in high esteem and even expressed her well wishes that God would grant Lieut. Queen a miraculous recovery. 

Barry then accompanies her to the head of the pharmacy department, who graciously allows her and John to hitch a ride to Manila that very night on the hospital delivery truck, which is scheduled to pick up medicines and medical supplies from there in the morning to bring back to Talavera.  She and John expressed gratitude to the pharmacist for dispatching the hospital vehicle in advance for their sake.

On their way to Manila, which was about two to three hours away from Talavera, John tells her the whole story of what happened to the raid of the prison camp in Los Baños, Laguna and of the subsequent encounter of the team with Deathstroke’s squad.

* * *

**Five days ago…**

The Los Baños prison camp was the last prison camp to be liberated on the island of Luzon.  It was situated 40 miles south of Manila, behind enemy lines.  It had more than 2,000 civilian prisoners, mostly American men, women, and children that had been interned since the Japanese invasion of the Philippines in April 1942. 

Since the return of Gen. MacArthur four months ago in October, he couldn’t believe the dismal conditions in a number of prison camps that have already been liberated by his troops.  The POWs had palpably been starved and maltreated, and had suffered horribly in the brutal hands of the Japanese guards.  With the threat of mass executions of prisoners by the Japanese (such as the one that had just occurred at a prison camp in Palawan island), and because the General’s ground forces were still fighting a bloody battle to retake Manila from the Japanese, MacArthur knew that it would take his troops weeks (or more) to reach the prison camp in Los Baños.  By then, it might be too late for the prisoners. 

So, on February 12 MacArthur had ordered the 11th Airborne Division to initiate a raid deep behind enemy lines to liberate the prisoners there and move them to a safe place.  The 11th Airborne had immediately gone to work to plan a daring air, sea, and land operation. 

Allied aircrafts had flown overhead to and from the battle in Manila, and down below, the prisoners in the camp had cheered, believing that their freedom was in sight and hoping that the rescuers will arrive before the Japanese ordered them all killed.

Three prisoners had somehow escaped from the camp and disappeared into the jungle.  They had come across a group of armed Filipino guerrillas that had taken them to their American allies, passing through the precarious jungle and across crocodile-ridden waters.  They had travelled at night most of the time to avoid Japanese patrols, and so it had taken them several days to reach the American troops.  When the escapees reached the location where the planning of the raid was happening, Oliver and his team had already arrived as well, having travelled for a few days themselves from Talavera, Nueva Ecija.

The escaped prisoners provided detailed, invaluable information that helped the Americans plan the raid and rescue more strategically – the Japanese defense of the camp, the location of fences and gun towers, and the like.  The escapees also told them that every morning at 6:45, the Japanese soldiers did ritual calisthenics for 30 minutes in a large field, unarmed and wearing only loincloths, and only a handful of guards were on duty to defend the camp.  Taking into account all the information they had gathered, 2nd Lieut. Oliver Queen, a.k.a. the Green Arrow, recommended to the planning committee that the date of the operation be advanced by several days to prevent a mass execution, and that the H-hour be moved earlier from 8:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. to coincide with the camp’s weakest point in time. 

The coordinated strike would be accomplished by 170 American paratroopers, 75 Filipino guerrillas, and the Green Arrow’s team, with the element of surprise in their favor.  However, the strategizers still anticipated a 30% casualty.  The challenge for them was not only to keep the civilian prisoners safe during the tactical assault, but also to move them all quickly to safety before Japanese reinforcements of up to 10,000 men could reach the camp from a nearby infantry division. 

Oliver had wisely pointed out that many, if not most, of the 2,000+ prisoners would likely be too weak to go on foot and would not make it far enough to safety before the Japs catch up with them.  With all due respect to the higher-ranking officials in charge of the mission, he had convinced the committee to rethink the original plan of loading the prisoners into trucks and moving them by armed convoy into American lines.  John had also spoken up in support of his comrade, attesting to the fact that they had learned from the guerrillas in the area that the Japs had already blown up bridges along the route to slow down the advance of American troops into southern Luzon.  Those bridges were no longer passable, and it would be foolish to push through with the evacuation by land.

Pointing to a map of the area, Oliver had suggested another way.  “Laguna Lake.  That is our best way out,” he had proposed.  “We can move everyone quickly to the beach, and then transport them in groups across some 20-25 miles of water on amtracs.  Those amphibious tractors can hold only up to 30 passengers each, though, so we’d have to make more than one trip, depending on how many tractors we have available.  It’ll take us a few hours, and during that time, the paratroopers will have to hold the camp until we get everybody out.  It’s a gamble, but I think it’s the best plan that would ensure the least number of casualties.”

The planning committee had seriously taken his suggestion under advisement.  The next day, orders had been given to the paratroopers, which were then passed on to the Filipino guerrillas and the Green Arrow’s team.  They had decided to give Oliver’s recommendation the green light.  60 amtracs were available for the evacuation, and so with the number of persons to transport in all, they would be making two round trips over a period of about five hours, hopefully less.

* * *

When the assault on the prison camp began at about 7:00 a.m., the prisoners were standing in line for water.  In the sky, large planes in formation approached, flying low with the doors open.  American paratroopers dropped from the planes, and soon they were on the ground.  Gunfire commenced in the camp, and all hell broke loose.  The prisoners ran back to their barracks to take cover under beds and tables, as small firearms and machine guns fired around them. 

The paratroopers were not the only ones that attacked.  The reconnaissance platoon of the 11th Airborne and the Filipino guerrillas that had marched all night through the jungle had reached the camp in time to hit the guard posts at exactly 7:00, just as the parachutes landed on the ground.  The Japanese had indeed been caught by surprise, and they were easily overpowered by the joint forces of the Americans and Filipinos.  Even the Japanese guards that managed to escape into the jungle were ambushed by guerrillas armed with machetes, having waited there for Japs that would try to make a run for it.  When gunfire died down, the prisoners came out of their hiding places and were overjoyed to greet their liberators. 

While the paratroopers were shocked by the ghastly appearance of the POWs they rescued, the sight was not new to Oliver and his team.  They had witnessed the same appalling thing in the liberation of the camps in Nueva Ecija, Manila, and Muntinlupa.  They had learned to avoid focusing on the prisoners’ gaunt physical frames, and to look them in the eyes instead, for there they found both gratitude and relief – the very things that made them believe that what they were fighting for was worth every risk they’ve had to take each time.

The first batch of prisoners were loaded on the amtracs that drove about two miles from the camp down a dirt road to the lake.  Hundreds of POWs and paratroopers were left on the shore waiting anxiously for their turn to get the ride to freedom.  Everyone knew that the Japanese would not let them go just like that.  The Japs were coming.  Very soon.

And the enemy did come.  At first, gunfire by the Japanese pursuers coming from the nearby hills and along the shore were infrequent and intermittent.  But by the time the second wave of amtracs returned, the artillery rounds were getting closer and closer.  Even the shots from guns and rifles were escalating.  When the last of the amtracs left the shore with the final batch of prisoners and paratroopers on board, only a group of Filipino guerrillas that volunteered to stay to provide cover for them were left on the beach.  Needless to say, the Green Arrow and his team were among those that stayed.

* * *

The guerrillas took cover behind huge rocks and a few fishing boats on the beach.   They shot at Japanese soldiers that trickled down from the hillside with their rifles and machine guns.  The Green Arrow and his men did likewise, reserving the arrows in their quiver for when they have to start retreating into the jungle, according to plan.  They were clearly outnumbered by the Japanese, but at that moment, their enemies were actually worse off. 

The Japs that came running down the hills and onto the beach were open targets for them to shoot at.  Whenever groups of soldiers approached, Rene and Roy hurled grenades at them.  When the Japs saw that a direct, frontal assault on the remaining group of guerrillas was not working to their advantage, and that they were open targets to the underdogs, they began to retreat to the hillside.

“Fall back!” the leader of the Filipino guerrillas shouted in the Tagalog language, and his men started running to the trees.

“Go!” Oliver shouted to guerrilla captain.  “We’ll cover you.”

“Thank you,” the Filipino captain said in English.  “We’ll see you at the rendezvous point when this is all over.”

Oliver and his team continued to rain bullets at the handful of Japanese soldiers remaining on the beach that were still shooting at the retreating guerrillas.  Yet, although a growing number of Japs were falling like swatted flies on the lake shore, Oliver knew that it was only a matter of time until they run out of ammo.  Reinforcements from the nearby Japanese infantry division would arrive soon, and they wouldn’t stand a chance against thousands of soldiers, armed with not just machine guns but also with mortars, bazookas, and heavy artillery.  He and his team would have to time their retreat perfectly if they wanted to get out of this alive.

Bam!  A hand grenade exploded ten feet away from where Oliver and John were taking cover behind a fishing boat.  The blast sent the bodies of his team’s three newest recruits flying in the air and landing in parts on the rocky shore.  Oliver shut his eyes, cringing in terror.  Three men down.  That was enough to remind him that if he couldn’t come up with a good enough flight plan, he just might lose everyone in the team, including himself.

Baaammm!!!  There was an even louder and bigger blast that hit the fishing boat about twenty feet behind them.  Oliver knew it could not have been caused by just a hand grenade, and when he looked over his shoulder to see if anyone had been hit, all he saw was a splintered boat shrouded in black smoke.  He couldn’t even make out if there were bodies buried underneath the wreckage.  If there were, no one would have survived that blast.  He hoped against all hope that all the guerrillas had made it out of the beach alive.  Oliver knew they had to move, and they had to move fast.

Meanwhile, John looked in the opposite direction to see what had caused the explosion, and what he saw frightened him more than the blast had.

“Oliver,” John called, placing his large hand on his friend’s shoulder, “we have company… _bad_ company.”

Oliver turned around and saw hardly any Japanese soldier left on the beach, but he immediately saw what was causing John’s lips to tremble and his face to pale.  There on the rocky shore was a masked warrior, clad in full battle gear, with his sinister squad of six. 

Deathstroke.  The Green Arrow’s arch-rival certainly knew how to make a dramatic entrance.

“And you thought he’d walked away just because he took a bullet in the shoulder,” Roy snapped at Rene sarcastically from behind the rock where they had taken cover from the blast.

One of Deathstroke’s men carried an M1 bazooka on his shoulder.  The other five mercenaries held machine guns and rifles with bayonets.  Deathstroke carried no fire power, however; he simply stood there, with his right hand on the long grip of his katana, ready to draw the sword from the fine wooden scabbard fastened to his back. 

“Give ‘em all you’ve got!” Oliver ordered his men.  They were already out of grenades, so they fired their guns at the approaching threats. 

Deathstroke and his minions easily took cover behind rocks and a smaller fishing boat and started fighting back with their own guns. 

* * *

The ensuing gunfire went on for more than ten minutes.  Oliver, John, Rene, and Roy emptied their rounds at the remaining Japanese soldiers that still had the guts to approach them head-on.  One of Deathstroke’s men was gunned down by John with a bullet to the head. 

“One down, six to go,” John muttered, convincing himself that that one kill was significant, because against Deathstroke’s team, they had been outnumbered, four against seven.  He thought they had a better chance to win with hand-to-hand combat, since they were fast running out of ammo, and they certainly didn’t stand a chance against a team of mercenaries armed with a bazooka.  Things were getting bleak as every minute passed by. 

When Roy’s and Rene’s rifles were empty, they started shooting arrows at their enemies.  But soon, even their quivers were empty.

“I’m out!” Rene cried.

“That makes two of us,” Roy said, loud enough for Oliver and John to hear.

“And you?” John asked Oliver, pointing his chin to Oliver’s rifle.

Oliver shook his head and threw his rifle to the ground.  John understood that the rifle was of no use to Oliver now without a bayonet.  John pulled out his .45 Colt pistol from its holster.  John was not an archer, and Oliver had respected his weapon of preference when he had joined the Green Arrow’s team.

John handed Oliver the long-range rifle he had been using.  “I believe the last four rounds in this one will be of better use in your hands, Lieut. Queen,” he told his best friend.

Oliver took the long-range rifle from John’s hand.  He was deeply touched by John’s gesture and show of faith in him.  John hasn’t called him Lieut. Queen in a long while.  The title of respect brought him back to their marine corps training days, when their training officers and superiors had identified him as one of their best sharp-shooters.  But there was no time to reminisce those days when his hands and eyes were skilled only with a rifle, not with a bow and arrow.  Those days when his youthful aspiration was simply to make this world a better place.  Those days when his soul had not yet been tainted by the guilt of taking human lives. 

“You two head for the trees.  John and I will cover you,” Oliver commanded Roy and Rene, who both nodded that they understood the order.  Oliver knew they had to fall back and flee into the jungle.  They’d have a better chance of losing Deathstroke and his men there.

John looked Oliver in the eye and nodded.  It was now or never.  He took a deep breath, straightened up and aimed his pistol at the direction of Deathstroke and his men, and fired. 

As soon as John’s first shot rang out, Rene and Roy sprinted in the direction of the nearby trees.  Deathstroke’s men fired back with their guns.  John fired another, and another, until one of Deathstroke’s men stood up from behind a rock and showed his ugly face.  Oliver took aim with his rifle and shot the guy in the chest.  John shifted a bit to the left and started firing at Deathstroke and one of his men behind the small boat.  Deathstroke’s companion stood up to shoot back at John, but John’s finger on the trigger was faster.  The guy didn’t even know what hit him. 

Another of Deathstroke’s men that had a machine gun started firing at Rene and Roy.  Oliver shifted position and aimed at the guy, but before he was able to shoot him down, Rene got hit in the leg.

Oliver’s eyes widened upon seeing Rene go down.  “Rene!” he cried out.

Roy, who was a few yards ahead of Rene, stopped and turned around.  He saw Rene trying to get up but failing miserably.  He saw that his teammate’s bullet wound wasn’t fatal.  He wasn’t going to leave a man behind just to save his own skin.  In a split-second decision to save his friend’s life, Roy ran back to get Rene.  He skidded to Rene, intending to sling Rene’s arm around his shoulder and drag Rene to safety towards the trees.

John kept shooting at Deathstroke and his men, but Oliver watched in agony as Roy was gunned down by machine gun fire before he even made it to the spot where Rene was lying on the ground.  Roy fell a few feet away from Rene, and was instantly killed; his body lay still on the ground.

“No!”  The loss of one more fellow-archer felt like an arrow through Oliver’s chest, but it also gave him a renewed zeal to fight.

Oliver aimed his weapon at Deathstroke’s machine gunner and fired.  The bullet found its mark in between the enemy’s eyes.

“I’m out,” John informed Oliver, his voice laced with worry.

The Jap with the bazooka was getting ready to fire at him and John.  Steady and calculating, Oliver aimed his weapon in the direction of that man and waited for him to straighten up.  The moment the Jap did, Oliver pulled the trigger, and the M1 bazooka fell onto the rocky ground with a loud clang.

Deathstroke quickly realized that he was left with only one mercenary, and he was infuriated.  He uncovered his face and dropped his black-and-orange mask, revealing the hate and rage on his face.  He let out a low groan that intensified into a monstrous, loud growl as he drew his sword from its sheath and started on a mad dash towards Oliver and John.  His only remaining ally followed suit with a knife in his hand.

Oliver dropped his now useless rifle and nocked an arrow with his bow.  With Deathstroke now just a few meters away, he let the arrow fly.  Deathstroke caught the arrow with his left hand and continued to run.  Oliver stood his ground, preparing to meet his rival head-on.

Deathstroke attacked Oliver with his sword as he came around the boat that had been his and John’s refuge.  He tried to fend off Deathstroke’s blade with his bow.  John, on the other hand, fought with Deathstroke’s henchman, dodging one strike of the knife after another.  Oliver and John knew that their enemies had the upper hand because they had weapons, but they were not about ready to give up. 

The men exchanged blows until John sustained a cut on his arm.  The cut was shallow, but it had caused him to stagger backwards, nonetheless.  His enemy tried to pin John to the ground, but John kicked him in the stomach.  The Jap was caught by that surprise move, dropping the knife as he wobbled backwards, and John took that chance to regain a stable footing.  The Jap came at him again with a punch, but John ducked and lunged to the ground to grab the knife.   When the Jap turned around to throw him another punch, John threw the knife straight to his chest.

While all that was going on, Oliver too was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Deathstroke.  He had dropped his bow and quiver in the fight.  Obviously, Oliver was the underdog; the sword-wielding lunatic had the advantage.  In the beginning, Oliver was simply fighting on the defensive, avoiding Deathstroke’s blade and dodging punches and kicks.  But Oliver was an intelligent fighter. 

In their few encounters in Northern Luzon a few months ago, Oliver had studied Deathstroke’s moves and analyzed his weakness.  Oliver surmised that Deathstroke was at his weakest when he thinks he is about to deliver the fatal blow to his enemy.  Oliver was sure that that was his enemy’s blind spot. 

As Oliver evaded Deathstroke’s sword and threw in some punches and kicks aimed at the enemy’s vital organs to weaken him, Oliver developed a plan.  Oliver would make his rival think that he was about to finish him off, and then at the last minute, he would find a way to turn his weapon against the arrogant fool.  He would.  He had to.

Meanwhile, John rushed to help Roy and Rene as soon as he had subdued his opponent.  He checked on Roy first, seeing that his teammate had sustained multiple bullet wounds on his torso.  He could find no pulse, so he sadly put down Roy’s lifeless body and went to check on Rene.  Rene was conscious, but was in tremendous pain and was bleeding out of two bullet holes in the leg.  John pulled out a small towel from his pocket and used it as a tourniquet on Rene’s leg.  “You’re gonna make it, buddy.  Stay with me,” he said to Rene.

With his peripheral vision, Oliver saw John aiding their friends, and that was his biggest mistake.  A roundhouse kick by Deathstroke’s right foot instantly brought him down.  Deathstroke came down at Oliver with his katana, but Oliver rolled to his right to avoid the blade.  Deathstroke struck once more, but Oliver again evaded the blade. 

From the corner of his eye, Oliver saw that his quiver and arrows were just a few feet away.  He didn’t attempt to make a move to get up anymore.  This was his window of opportunity.  This was Deathstroke’s weak spot.  It could take just a split-second – the line that separated life and death – but he was going to take that risk bravely.  He had to.  He will.

From down on the ground, Oliver looked up at Deathstroke’s face, which was clearly adamant at revenge.  Oliver took a deep breath and rolled swiftly towards his scattered arrows.  Deathstroke struck dirt once.  Twice.  Thrice.  As Deathstroke’s katana came down for the fourth time, Oliver reached for an arrow and flung it straight into his enemy’s face. 

But not in time to escape Deathstroke’s blade.

Oliver had caught the katana between the palms of his hands a split-second after he threw the arrow at Deathstroke’s face, but the tip of the blade – about 3-4 inches – had already gone into his stomach. 

John was helping Rene get back on his feet when he looked up and saw it happen.  “Oliver!” John shouted in panic.  He put Rene back down on the ground so that he could come to the aid of his best friend, who was more than thirty feet away. Rene would have to wait.

Deathstroke had also screamed in pain.  The arrow was sticking out of his left cheek, and he was clutching it with both hands in an attempt to pluck it out.

Oliver had both his hands on the katana’s blade, too.  He saw Deathstroke pull out the arrow and drop it to the ground, screaming in excruciating pain, and he realized how insane this monster truly was.  He could see it in Deathstroke’s eyes.  Deathstroke was going to finish him off. 

The sword that Oliver was holding was the most accessible weapon he had to defend himself from his enemy’s final and fatal attack, but he knew that if he pulled it out, he would eventually bleed to death. 

As Deathstroke made his move to grab the sword by its grip, Oliver knew there was no choice to make.  Oliver pulled out the blade, turned it around swiftly with his deft hands, and thrust it into Deathstroke’s heart. 

The blade went through and through, and as Deathstroke fell on his knees, with his dying breath he declared.  “I hate you… as much as I hate your mentor Yao Fei.  My name is Slade Wilson, and I will hunt you in your dreams if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Oliver stared gravely at his enemy’s bleeding face.  His vengeful enemy was perishing by his own sword, and his eyes widened at the irony of it.  Oliver wasn’t going to let this monster scare him with empty threats.  He was done running from this murderer.  Deathstroke would never again have the chance to hurt him and the ones he loved.

“Never.  The last thing you will ever do is die and go straight to hell,” Oliver responded with gritted teeth, as Deathstroke’s body slumped to the ground. 

* * *

“Rene’s leg was bleeding, but he still helped me drag Oliver into the woods before the Japanese reinforcements could arrive,” John tells Felicity. 

“About half a mile into the jungle, the Filipino guerrillas met us.  They came back for us with a medic.  From there we trekked for miles, taking turns carrying Oliver on an improvised folding cot, until we got to a road where an army jeep was waiting beyond enemy lines.  All the while we tried our best to stop the bleeding, but there was only so much we could do.  When we got to the rendezvous point where our troops were, the army doctor said he couldn’t operate to repair the damage without the proper equipment and facility, so they sent us to the hospital in Manila.  By the time we got there, the sun was already up.  It’s actually a miracle that Oliver has lasted this long,” John finishes the story.

But Felicity asks, “Why didn’t you send word?  What took you so long to come back and tell me?”

John answers, “The commanding officers demanded that I be debriefed immediately.  They wanted to know everything that went down.  They especially wanted to confirm whether or not the so-called ‘secret weapon of the Kempeitai’ was no longer a threat.  I spent an entire day at headquarters answering questions and filling out forms.”

Felicity needs the confirmation as well, because Deathstroke being dead feels too good to be true.  Like the military officers, she asks too, just to be sure.  “So, is he?  No longer a threat, I mean.”

“Felicity, we will _never_ see Deathstroke again,” is John’s unequivocal reply.  He gives Felicity a comforting hug, which she returns with sincere gratitude.

She knows she should celebrate, be happy about this assurance.  She could, if her husband’s life isn’t currently hanging in the balance, and all because of the very person who John Diggle says will never go after them again.

She can’t wait to see Oliver.  Alive.  Everyone who knows her well would attest to the fact that she’s not one to say, “I can’t lose him,” or “I can’t live without him.”  She’s stronger than that, and she knows it.  If Oliver dies, she knows she’ll live through a loss that painful, but she will definitely not come out of it the same person.  If he goes, a part of her goes with him.  She’ll live, but with a gaping hole in her heart that will take years to heal and scar.  She also knows that she will never love another man the way she has loved Oliver Queen. 

And speaking of _never_ , her biggest regret, though, was that their child will never know how blessed and beautiful it is to love and be loved by him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical Notes:  
> Between October 1944 and August 1945, American troops were engaged in a massive, intensive campaign to liberate the Philippine islands from the Japanese. Among their noble, courageous, and daring efforts was the liberation of POWs from Japanese prison camps. The most famous one was Raid of Cabanatuan, which was widely written about and immortalized in the 2005 war movie "The Great Raid" starring Joseph Fienes. 
> 
> However, there was another noteworthy liberation effort that is less known in history books, but was none less noble, courageous, and daring -- the Raid of Los Baños. One article I read when doing research called it "the camp rescue that history forgot," yet as author Bruce Henderson wrote, it was probably "the most daring prison camp raid of World War II." The rescue was not only successful; casualties were also low. Only 3 Americans were killed and 2 wounded. Only 2 Filipinos were lost. But, the Japanese lost 80 men. Sadly, very little attention was given to this raid in February of 1945 because the focus of the world on that same day was on Iwo Jima, where 5 U.S. Marines raised the American flag on top of Mt. Suribachi. 
> 
> For that reason, the Los Baños raid was the one I chose to include in this story, the one I tried to capture in this chapter. Of course, I had to change some things to put in the Green Arrow and dramatize the beach fight scene, but most of the details I included come from the stuff I researched about. 
> 
> Conditions of POWs in the Japanese camps in the Philippines in WWII were appalling and heart-wrenching. Just looking at the pictures in online articles and accounts was... (sigh) Even civilians, including women and children, were not spared of maltreatment and starvation. I truly hope that the world never sees the atrocities of another world war. History already attests that very little good comes out of war.
> 
> Geography Notes:  
> Laguna Lake is one of the largest lakes in the largest island of Luzon, and it is surrounded by four provinces in the southern Tagalog region. It is just a few miles from Metro Manila.


	16. Purple Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Conclusion:  
> Big time jumps and flashbacks tell what happened to our heroes after the Raid of Los Baños.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally... the final chapter fused with an epilogue. I'll say nothing more, so as not to spoil the moment(s). Tags, archive warnings, and tissue warning shall apply.

**Santo Tomas Hospital, Manila**

Oliver hears a knock on the door. 

It’s been open since early morning because he had asked the nurse to keep it that way.  He’d rather hear the noise coming from the corridor than the silence that filled his room.  It helps him keep his thoughts away from the mission that almost cost him his life. 

This hospital is so much better than the first one they’d brought him to, the one where they had done the emergency surgery days ago.  As soon as he was stable, he was actually air-lifted to this facility to convalesce, far from the battlefield where his comrades are still risking lives and limbs to serve their country and liberate the people of this country.  That’s what was normally done now for soldiers with serious injuries who needed to recuperate before they are sent back to the States.

If only he could walk, he would be out of his bed and out of his room even now.  He’d rather be where the action is.  His legs are perfectly fine, but his abdominal injury won’t allow it yet.  The damage that it had caused on his internal organs would take a long time to heal.  The doctors have said that under no circumstance was he going to be able to go back to the field even if he recuperates.  No, not for a very long time.

He looks up and smiles upon seeing her at the doorway.  Finally, he gets to see her beautiful face again.  He knows he’ll start to feel a whole lot better.

“How are you, Oliver?” Felicity asks, coming to stand by his bedside.  She takes his hand in both of hers and kisses him on the forehead.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, I guess, all things considered.”  He grins at her.  He tries to sit up and show off, pretend that he’s a lot stronger than he looks, but he feels the wound on his stomach protest.  He winces because of the pain.

“Easy.  Don’t push yourself.  This kind of injury… it’ll take time,” she said, trying her best not to break down and sob in front of him.  With a brave face, she continues, “I’ve spoken to the doctors.  They say you’re going to make a full recovery.  They also tell me that upon discharge the people up there are sending you back Stateside as soon as you recover.”

“And you?  I’m not going home without you,” he declares with a frown on his face.

“Of course, I’m coming with you,” Felicity smiles down at him, moving to sit on his hospital bed, but not letting go of his hand.  She finds it amusing how a grown man is acting like a child when he’s nursing an injury. 

“I’m filing an indefinite leave of absence from the Red Cross, so that I could go home to Starling with you.  I’m thinking, you might want us to spend some time at Dearden Ranch.  Fresh air will do you some good.  You’ve spent far too much time running around the jungles dodging bullets and landmines.” 

Oliver chuckles at her remark.  He knows she’s only trying to cheer him up, but he feels the pull of his muscles on his stitches, so he restrains himself.

“Stop trying to make me laugh, Mom,” Oliver says.

“Well, someone has to,” Felicity replies.  “When you put your heart and soul into something you believe in, you tend to stick to it no matter what.  And then you become so focused and so serious about it, you forget to lighten up every once in a while.”  Then she pauses, remembering with fondness the only man who’s ever captured her heart.  “You’re so much like your dad.”

He is.

_When he was still in her womb, Felicity had known intuitively that they were having a son.  She and Oliver – the first one in her life that she loved – had casually agreed to call him Junior in the meantime, contingent upon the baby’s birth.  When she delivered their son, and laid her eyes on him for the first time, she was positive that giving him his father’s name was indeed the right thing to do.  The years that had passed had only proven her right.  Oliver John Smoak Queen, Jr. grew up into a fine young man that almost completely resembled his father – from the sandy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes, the finely chiseled jaw, to the shape of his scruff when he grew his facial hair – only, Oliver Jr. was a couple of inches taller than his dad._

_Their son had taken up archery since his early teens.  His friends had thought it a strange hobby; nevertheless, peer pressure had not stood a chance against his aspirations of following in his father’s footsteps.  Felicity had not prevented him from picking up a bow and arrow when he reached the age of thirteen.  She had always thought that he was born for it.  She remembered her discomfort when he was still in her womb; it had felt like their son was practicing some sort of archery in there because she could feel some parts of him protruding on two opposite sides of her belly, and it had startled her in the beginning.  Oliver Jr. had gotten very good at the skill until he graduated from high school, but his dreams had not stopped at archery._

_After he received his diploma, he signed up to join the Marines.  Just like his father.  At the young age of 22, their son had been sent to his first tour of Vietnam.  That was a year and a half ago._

As she fixes her gaze on her son, all she sees is her Oliver, the love of her life. 

She has tuned out her son’s voice, and isn’t absorbing any of the stories he tells her of the war in Vietnam.  She already knows what war is like.  She has never forgotten.  The memories of the fallen have always been with her.  Tommy.  Dante Ramon and his mother Aling Elena.  Rory Regan and Roy Harper.  Simon Ibarra.  Iris West.  The thousands that hadn’t survived the Bataan Death March, and the thousands more that perished in the cruel hands of the Japanese Imperial Army and the Kempeitai.  She would never forget.

As she sits beside her wounded son, Felicity can’t believe she is going through something like this all over again.  Her mind wanders back to more than twenty years ago when she sat beside Oliver in this same hospital and held his hand in hers.

The hospital was so different then.  It was a little untidy and chaotic than it is now, considering they’d been treating the injured soldiers and civilians in the Battle of Manila back then.  It was noisy, and crowded with stressed-out medical and hospital staff, wounded soldiers screaming in pain, a few family members panicking for loved ones caught in the crossfires, and military personnel shouting orders this way and that.  But more than that, she remembers thinking how the place had been grim and gloomy. 

* * *

**March 1, 1945**

From the moment she and John stepped into the very busy triage area, Felicity could sense panic and alarm.  Their troops were winning the war, and it was just a matter of time before Manila was completely rid of the Japanese.  But why did the corridors of this place echo sadness and defeat?  Why did she feel like she didn’t belong here?

She and John wandered down the hallway that the triage had directed them to go to.  Every room to the right and to the left was occupied, but none of them was occupied by the only person they sought.  Normally, she would be driven to help the wounded, but the only patient she was interested in at the moment was the very person they could not find.  Her heart pounded in her chest as if it was about to explode.  Was she in the right hallway in the first place?  Why can’t they find him?  The hospital staff had a lot of work cut out for them in the coming months if they truly want this place to function better, post-liberation.

“Felicity?” a familiar voice called from behind her.

When she turned around to see who it was, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Caitlyn?” she uttered in total disbelief.

Felicity stood frozen in her spot, but Caitlyn Snow’s steps hastened towards her from the far end of the hallway.  As Caitlyn started to run, Felicity moved to meet her halfway.  When they were finally in each other’s embrace, the two reunited friends were in tears.  They clung to each other for a full minute, neither letting go.  It was too good to be true.

When they finally pulled back, Caitlyn spoke, “I… I thought… I didn’t think you made it when the bomb hit Little Baguio.  In Bataan, Oliver had asked me about you all the time.  I didn’t know what I would have told him if…”

“Barry and I… we… we made it out,” Felicity began to explain in between sniffles.  “When the bomb hit, our vehicle… We were knocked unconscious.  When we woke up, we were already being taken care of by villagers in Orani,” Felicity explained.  “And you... How did you…?”

Caitlyn replied, “I survived the month-long siege on Corregidor.  I was among the troops and nurses that surrendered to the Japanese in May of ’42.  The handful of army nurses I was with… we were transferred to this hospital, which was really just another internment camp.  Since then, I’ve been helping Josephine Nesbit and Maude Davison run this camp hospital.  We do what we can.”  Caitlyn paused and hugged her friend again.  “It’s so good to see you alive and well, Felicity.”

“I’m so happy to see you, too!  All this time, every time I remembered you, I always prayed… hoped… that you survived too,” Felicity said.  She had missed this wonderful colleague.  They were both nurses, but Caitlyn was an army nurse, while she works for the American National Red Cross.  They bonded instantly when they first met on her first day in Manila.

“How is Dr. Allen?” Caitlyn asked. 

“Barry?  He’s okay now.”  Felicity paused, and Caitlyn sensed her hesitation.  “For a while, he wasn’t doing well.  The disappearance of Iris and… and eventually the discovery of her passing… He took it pretty hard.”

Both women sighed deeply at the thought of Barry’s loss.  It was the sound of John Diggle clearing his throat that broke the silence that stretched for about a minute.

“Oh, by the way,” Felicity remembered her companion and didn’t want to be any more rude than she already was, “this here is Private First-Class John Diggle.  John is a very good friend of mine, and Oliver’s.  They’re with the 4th Marines.”

“Good to meet you, Private Diggle,” Caitlyn said, shaking the hand that John offered.  “Any friend of Felicity is a friend of mine as well.”

“Likewise,” John responded.  “And speaking of Oliver…”

“Oh, yes!  Caitlyn, would you mind helping us find Oliver?” Felicity requested.  “He was brought here after the raid in the Los Baños prison camp a few days ago.  He was among the few who’d been wounded in action in Laguna.  Knife wound – well, more like a sword to the stomach.”  She winced and cringed at the thought.  “John says he was in surgery and was in critical condition when John left here to fetch me.  We can’t seem to find his room.”

“Sure!  Wait, did you say a sword to the stomach?  From the Los Baños raid?  That was Lieut. Queen?” Caitlyn asked, her astonishment clearly visible on her face and her heightened tone of voice.

“Yes, and yes,” John Diggle confirmed.

“I knew it!” Caitlyn exclaimed.  Her voice echoed down the hallway.  She realized she had just said that out loud in a hospital hallway, of all places, and she immediately covered her mouth with her hand.

“Knew what?” Felicity asked, curious of her friend’s reaction.

“Two things actually.  One is that the Green Arrow isn’t just a legend.  I proved it the day our guys raided this internment camp and liberated us with the help of Filipino guerrillas and the Green Arrow’s team.  I actually won a five-dollar bet for that.  Second, I had this gut feeling that the hero under that green hood is, in fact, Lieut. Queen.  I thought it was him when we passed each other that day.  He simply nodded and smiled, but I knew that face was familiar!” Caitlyn explained with enthusiasm.

“A few days ago, I heard that the Green Arrow and someone else from his team were brought in from the Los Baños raid.  The surgical team had done their best to make sure he survived.  Word was that he had arrested while he was on the operating table, but they were able to revive him through CPR.  We were all so relieved to know that he survived the surgery.  The Green Arrow has been a real hero, and his legend a beacon of hope to all who hear stories about him.  Word is, he finally put the Kempeitai’s fearsome henchman of guerrillas out of commission.”

Felicity and John smiled, heads held up high with pride for the Green Arrow’s reputation.  They’ve been part of his team, part of his success after all.  It was good to hear that people appreciated what they’ve been doing.  They haven’t been able to smile in the last five days.  Suddenly the four walls of the hospital didn’t seem as suffocating as it was just minutes ago.

“Knowing that Lieut. Queen is actually the Green Arrow?  That’s perhaps the most wonderful news I’ve heard since MacArthur returned!” Caitlyn remarked, still very enthused about her discovery.

“Caitlyn, can you tell us where we might find him?” John asked this time.

“Tell you?  I can show you,” Caitlyn said confidently, grinning from ear to ear. 

Caitlyn led them down the hallway, and then they turned right to another wing of the hospital where the seriously injured were being intensively cared for. 

When they got to the nurses’ station, Caitlyn asked her colleague for the room where they could find 2nd Lieut. Oliver Queen.  The older nurse behind the counter gave her the room number, but cautioned her that the doctors specifically ordered that the patient not be disturbed as his vitals were still quite unstable. 

When the older nurse asked her if the visitors were family, it was John that answered, “She’s his wife,” pointing to Felicity. 

“You’re married to Lieut. Queen?” Caitlyn asked Felicity in shock.  “Since when?”

Felicity and John knew the answers to her questions, but for some reason, the two of them just stood there wide-eyed and speechless.  Caitlyn’s gaze somehow landed on Felicity’s ring finger, and then on her stomach.  Seeing the already visible baby bump there, she said, “Oh… Okay, forget I asked.  I guess, congratulations are in order.  Congratulations on your wedding and for the baby!”

“Thank you,” Felicity responded with a smile.

With this new information, the older nurse acquiesced, allowing Caitlyn and Felicity to enter Oliver’s room.  Felicity went inside, but Caitlyn stopped at the door, closing it gently.

* * *

Oliver had been unconscious when she arrived.  Felicity had kept vigil at his bedside for hours, caring for him both as his wife and as a well-trained nurse, but he remained unconscious even after Caitlyn’s shift was over.  John had left to check on Rene Ramirez in another ward and to find them a safe place to stay in the American-occupied part of the city near the hospital.  Doctors and nurses had come and gone to check on him.  Oliver’s vitals were still unstable, and he’d been running a fever that won’t come down with the usual medications. 

The nurses said that his condition was still critical.  The doctor in charge was anxious that Oliver had developed an infection during the extended time between he had sustained his injury and the time the medics had managed to get him to the hospital, and this infection was now circulating in his blood stream.  So, Felicity refused to leave his side or even nap even if John and Caitlyn had pleaded with her for the sake of the baby; she wanted to stay awake and alert, as Oliver might go into septic shock anytime.

“Please, Honey.  Wake up.  Come back to me, to us,” Felicity whispered to him. 

Her heart had been broken as she helped the doctor and the nurse dress his wound and change the bandages earlier.  It still broke now that she wiped his face from sweat and cooled his burning skin with a cold, moist towel.  He looked so pale.  The lips she’d adored kissing time and again were pale and dry.  She missed seeing those sea-blue eyes.  If only those lids would flutter open, she would see them again.  But Oliver lay so still.  His shallow breathing, evidenced by the slight rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he was still alive. 

Felicity has seen him bounce back from severe injury and malaria before, so she tried to keep her hopes up.  As she looked down at her husband’s face, silently begging him to keep fighting to live, a teardrop fell from her eye.  It landed on his cracking lips, moistening them, just as the first drop of rain is welcomed by parched soil in the summer. 

She turned away to reach for the nearby towel to wipe it off his face, but when she turned back, Oliver’s lips moved.  She gasped.  She then saw his eyes move underneath his eyelids, so she bent over and whispered in his ear, “Oliver, I’m here.”

Nothing happened.

“Oliver, can you hear me?” she asked a little more loudly.  “It’s me, your Felicity.  I’m here.  Wake up, please.”

The room was still silent.  All she could hear was her voice, and the sniffles she was making.  Then she heard it – his voice – faint at first, asking for something. 

“Water…” 

Felicity saw his lips move. 

“Water,” he muttered once more, his eyes still closed.

She picked up the glass of water she had been drinking from and helped him have a sip.  That’s when he opened his eyes and saw her.

“Hi,” she spoke with a sigh of relief, a smile forming on her lips.  She rested his head back down on his pillow.

He felt for her hand, and when he found it, he squeezed lightly and said, “You’re here.”

“Yes, John brought me here.  Happy to see me, I see,” she remarked, smiling down at him with glassy eyes.

“Always,” he replied, attempting to flash her the smile he’d always reserved only for her.  The pain he felt on his wound, however, prevented him from doing so.

“You had me worried,” she told him.  In all honesty, she still was.  She just didn’t want him to worry that she’s worried, but she knew that he could see right through her façade.  He simply blinked and squeezed her hand again.

There was something in his eyes that she did not recognize.  It wasn’t guilt or defeat, neither was it sadness or despair.  No, she’d seen those in his eyes before – once, when he had come home from China to visit the first time, and then again in Orion, when she and Barry had saved his life with the help of the Ramon family after he survived the Death March.  What she saw in his eyes now was different, and it evoked in her a paradoxical mixture of pain and peace that she’s never experienced before.

“And how is Junior?” he asked, still holding on to her hand.

Felicity gasped and placed her other hand on her stomach as she answered, “Doing much better than his father right now.  He actually kicked when you asked about him.”  She moved her hand for him to release it, and when he did, she took his hand and placed it on the part of her stomach where she felt movement.  “Feel that?”

He shook his head to tell her that he had felt nothing.

“Wait for it,” she encouraged him.  When she felt the baby kick again, she pressed his hand against her stomach even more.  “There! Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that.”

Oliver smiled faintly and nodded that he did feel it.  “That’s my son in there,” he whispered.

“He sure is.  I have a feeling he’s going to be just like you.  Lately, he’s been moving more and more.  Sometimes it feels like he’s practicing some form of archery in here, it catches me off-guard.”  She laughed a little at the image of a mini Green Arrow practicing his moves in her womb.  She thought it funny, but she didn’t understand why she was starting to cry.

“Promise me you’ll take care of him.”

She turned to look at Oliver, whose gaze was already fixed on her.  “Of course.  _We’ll_ take care of him, together,” she corrected him, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

She expected him to agree with her, but he simply underscored his request.  “Promise me.”  He felt for her hand again, but this time, she gripped his hand before he could find hers.

“Don’t…” was all Felicity could say, as more tears flooded her eyes.  “Please… Oliver…”

This time, Oliver managed an honest-to-goodness smile, and she smiled back with trembling lips.  “I’m not leaving you,” he said.  His voice was weak, betraying how battered his body was, how extremely tired he was.  “I… I’m just… going ahead.  Advanced party.”  He sighed and swallowed hard even if it hurt his dry throat.  “I’ll wait for you… and Junior… on the other side.”

“Oliver, stop.  Don’t talk that way.  As a matter of fact, don’t talk anymore.  Save your strength for your recovery,” Felicity pleaded with him.

Oliver shut his eyes and shook his head mildly in disagreement.  When he opened his eyes again, he told her, “Listen.  I… I’m glad I even woke up… and got to see you again… talk to you… one last time.”

Felicity shook her head vehemently, willing him to stop saying such things.  But it seemed as if Oliver had been saving his strength for the past few days to communicate his parting words to her.

“Hey, listen to me.”  His voice was a tad bit louder now.  “Tell our son about me, okay?  Tell him one thing about me every day… even the hard and dark things… when he’s ready… to understand.  Tell him every day… how much I love him… and his mother.  Tell him that I’d be so proud of him… whatever path in life he takes.  Someday, if he wants my bow, give it to him.”

“I promise,” she whispered, nodding her head as tears streamed down her face.

She should really be calling the nurse right now to tell them that he was awake, but this was their moment, she thought.  He was bidding her farewell.  The doctors and nurses could wait.

Oliver moved his hand out of her grip and held hers instead.  “Promise me one more thing.”  She nodded, wordlessly.  “Promise me… you will never forget what happened here.  The march.  The murders.  The camps.  The women.  Everything.  Tell everyone who will listen.  And don’t be afraid to testify in court… if it comes to that.” 

“I can’t… I can’t do that without you,” she uttered.  She was beginning to sob, no matter how hard she fought back the tears. 

“Felicity, you… are the smartest, strongest person I know.  In many ways, you are even stronger than me.  You are going to bring our son into this world, and even without me, you will raise him to be an honorable man who loves God, country, and others--”

“--just like his wonderful father--”

“--and his beautiful mother.”

A lifetime of silence passed between them, as they stared into each other’s weeping eyes.  Oliver reached up with his other hand and cupped her cheek.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he asked.

“All the time,” she replied, placing her hand over the wrist of the hand that held her face.  She rubbed the pad of her thumb across his knuckles. 

“I’m sure you’ll miss it.  But knowing you… I know you’re going to make it… long after I’m gone.”  Oliver smiled.  He was teasing, and Felicity picked up on it.

“I thought you said you weren’t leaving?” she teased back. 

“I’m not,” he answered with a more sober yet calm expression on his face.  “I’ll always be with you, Felicity.  In your heart.  Always.”

At that moment, everything about their relationship flashed before her eyes.  She realized how happy they’d been in just less than ten years of knowing each other as friends, then as lovers, and as husband and wife.  It just wasn’t long enough, she thought.  She had wanted to spend the rest of her life with this amazing man.  But the grander plan of heaven was for her to stay here longer than him.  He was right.  She was going to miss him, and that was what she was going to do for the rest of her life.

The irony of it all was that the fond memories they shared together had somehow caused her to stop crying.  “You know, ever since we met, we’ve always been saying goodbye to each other, you’d think we would be good at it by now,” Felicity said. 

“Well, then let’s not say goodbye this time,” Oliver replied.

Felicity lowered herself and their lips met for a loving, longing kiss.  When their lips parted and she straightened up, she placed her hand on his face and tenderly caressed his scruffy jaw.

“I’d go anywhere with you.  You know that, right?” she asked.  He nodded.  “I got sick and tired of sitting pretty in my skirt, waiting for you to come home each time; I just had to follow you to the Far East.  And look where it got me?  I’ve been running around the jungle in men’s pants with a handsome guy in a hood.”  She paused and took a deep breath.  She didn’t want to remember their final conversation as dark and sad, so she was trying her best to keep it light, but she couldn’t keep it up at this point.  “But… but I guess I can’t go where you’re going this time, huh?”

“No, not yet, at least.  You’ve got our son to take care of.  I’m sure… you’re going to do an awesome job.  You always do.” 

Oliver stopped to take a breath.  It was getting harder and harder to do that.  He felt his time was running out, his strength ebbing away.  He knew his time was running out.

“I love you so much, Felicity.  Loving you… and being your partner in everything… have been the best part of my life,” Oliver told her, gripping her hand once again with the last ounce of strength left inside him.

Felicity replied, “I love you, with everything that’s in me,” she replied.  She could tell him more, but she felt like her heart was about to burst.  She wanted her last words to linger in his mind in his final moments – that she loved him with all her heart. 

So instead she said, “Now, get some rest.  I’ll see you when I see you.” 

Oliver closed his eyes to rest, and Felicity kissed his forehead to soothe him.

A little past midnight, he went into shock, and after a brief bout of dizziness and disorientation, he became unconscious again.  His blood pressure dropped and continued to do so gradually.  The doctors feared that his lungs and heart were giving out. 

By late morning the next day, Lieut. Oliver Queen passed away.  A hero.

* * *

Dr. Barry Allen and Francisco Ramon arrived at the hospital with John Diggle and two high-ranking officers of the USAFFE (one of them a general), but they were too late.  Oliver had just expired when they stepped into his room and found a grieving Felicity in Caitlyn’s embrace.  John’s and Barry’s presence and moral support helped comfort the young widow, and both men expressed sincere condolences to their dear friend, fully convinced that she would get through this trying time. 

The officers then introduced themselves and stated their purpose.  They were there to present the wife of the deceased the Purple Heart, a military medal awarded in the name of the President of the United States to those in the U.S. military that have been wounded or killed in action against an enemy of the country or as a result of such action against the country by its enemy.  Oliver was being honored for his bravery in Los Baños.

Felicity cried upon seeing the Purple Heart being pinned on Oliver’s pillow.  She had seen it happen before at the Sternberg Hospital when she had been on duty, and once in Talavera when officers presented the medal to an army private that had been severely wounded during the raid in Cabanatuan.  Bedside presentations of military decorations had been a common occurrence during war, apparently.  John promised her that he will make sure that proper documentation was done to avoid clerical errors and to ensure that Oliver’s award would be on record. 

But Felicity wasn’t concerned about that as much as she regretted Oliver not having lived long enough to receive the medal himself.  If she were to count every time that he had been injured or wounded in action as the Green Arrow or just as Lieut. Queen over the last three years, there’d be no room left on his pillow for all the Purple Hearts that should be pinned there.  She had married a hero, but there were only six people in the room that witnessed the honor ascribed to him by his country. 

Felicity was glad that the hospital staff took longer than usual in processing her husband’s documents.  That gave her some more time to spend with him in the room, a little more time for her to ponder on who he was as a person, and how much he had meant to her.  It gave her time to examine and appreciate the military decoration that adorned his bedside – a symbol of her husband’s courage, heroism, and many sacrifices – not just for his country and the Filipino people, but also for his team and for her.

Felicity stood up from the chair she’d been sitting on for half an hour in silence.  She took Oliver’s lifeless hand and brought it up to her face.  She kissed the back of his hand and then placed his palm on her baby bump. 

She took a deep breath as a lone tear escaped her eye and spoke to their son, “Oliver, feel your daddy’s hand.  One day in the very long future, you’re going to meet him.  He loves you so much, like I do.  I have so many stories to tell you about him.  He’s a hero, you know.  I have a feeling that one day, when you grow up, you’re going to be just like him, brave and strong, never giving up.  And you’re going to break to my heart, too… but in a good way… just like your daddy broke it today by going on ahead of me.  I’m going to miss him so much.  Actually, I miss him already.  But I’m looking forward to meeting you soon, son.  You are the best of him that I have left.”

She laid her husband’s hand on the bed and kissed his lips one last time, and then she walked away to follow up on the arrangements.  Before she closed the door to his room, she turned to look at him one final time.

“I love you, Oliver Queen.”

* * *

**Dearden Ranch, California (1967)**

It’s a bright, sunny morning in autumn.  The red, orange, and yellow leaves are just beginning to fall.  The rippling sound of the stream is like calming music to her ears.  Felicity is glad it hasn’t rained here since she and her son Oliver arrived from Starling City. 

They’d been back in California for more than a month now, and Oliver has been recovering well from his injury.  He’s been healing so well the doctors had allowed him to ride again, something that he had always enjoyed doing with his mother ever since he was little, every time they got a chance to visit the ranch.  Today, he insisted that he and his mother visit his father’s grave on horseback.

_When her Oliver passed away in the hospital in Manila on March 2, 1945, Robert and Moira Queen had pulled their resources together and took advantage of their military connections to get their son’s remains home.  They had refused to allow the military to bury him in the American cemetery or the Heroes’ Cemetery in the Philippines.  Felicity had known better than to talk them out of it, and because she had acknowledged how much it would mean to Oliver’s younger sister Thea to see her brother’s remains to say goodbye, she had agreed to help them make the necessary arrangements from her end._

_Felicity had accompanied her husband’s remains on a military plane bound for San Diego, where she was met by her family – Donna and Quentin, Sara, and Laurel, who had also been widowed three years prior when Tommy had perished in the Bataan Death March.  As soon as her and Laurel’s eyes met, she had known instantly that from then on, she and her step-sister would share a unique bond, having both lost their significant others to the Second World War._

_Felicity had also realized before leaving the Philippines that losing the love of her life would also forge a deeper bond between her and her mother.  Donna had likewise lost her first love, Felicity’s biological father, to the First World War.  Like her, her mother had been pregnant at the time.  Like her, her son would be born without his father.  He would grow up without his father, but not without love.  She and her family would make sure of that._

_From San Diego, her family accompanied her and Oliver’s remains to Starling City, where they rendezvoused with the Queens.  Together with close friends and relatives, they brought 2 nd Lieut. Oliver Jonas Queen, known to many in the island of Luzon and to many in the ranks of the USAFFE as the Green Arrow, to his final resting place – under the oak tree at the edge of the meadow near the stream at Dearden Ranch._

That’s where Felicity and Oliver Jr. are now, to pay their respects to a good man and a brave marine.

“Hey, Dad!  I finally got the chance to visit the Philippines.  I only wished it were under more pleasant circumstances, but…  I’ve come back from my first tour.  Vietnam.  Right now, it’s a tropical hellhole.  War is a terrible thing, that’s what Mom always told me.  I know you know what that means.  But I’m glad I got to experience somehow what the two of you had been through.  I experienced firsthand the sacrifices one has to make to serve our country and to keep innocent people safe.  I don’t regret serving one bit.  Mom says I got it from you, but Uncle John tells me I get it from her.” 

Speaking of John Diggle.  Oliver had so much love and respect for his parents’ dear friend.  Aside from the inspiring stories of his parents’ wartime exploits, it was Uncle John’s example and encouragement that gave him the final push to join the military. 

_A few years after the war ended, John Diggle had founded and pioneered the U.S. Army Special Forces together with Russell Volckman (leader of guerrillas in Northern Luzon), Wendell Fertig (overall commander of the guerrillas in Mindanao), and Aaron Bank.  These former guerrilla commanders served again during the Korean War in 1950-1953, using their wartime experience to formulate unconventional strategies of warfare that eventually became the basis of the training and operations of the U.S. Special Forces.  They put to good use the guerrilla warfare strategies and survival techniques that they had learned in the mountains and jungles of the Philippines during the Japanese occupation.  Later on, the Special Forces also became known as the Green Berets – something that Felicity had loved to tease John about, considering how he had ended up somehow walking in Oliver’s shoes, wearing the same color, but instead of a hood, John and his guys wore the distinctive S.F. service headgear._

John and Lyla have always helped Felicity look out for her son Oliver, and they’d continued being close friends through the years.

“I really wish I could have met you, Dad,” Oliver continued.  “You must have really been a great guy for Mom to have fallen in love with you.  I think she’s still in love with you until now.” He glanced at her mother and caught her smiling at his remark.  “She hasn’t remarried, you know.  She says no one’s ever measured up.”

Truth be told, through the years, Felicity has had a number of decent men express their intent to pursue her, but her heart belonged to Oliver.  Some of her suitors were widowers, others eligible bachelors.  A couple of them were military men as well.  Barry Allen had been the most avid, but she had turned him down very discreetly too.  She could only see him as a very dear friend.  They had parted ways amicably, Barry deciding to take the leadership post offered by the ANRC, which brought him to West Africa.  He’s still serving in there, with Caitlyn Snow, and they’ve been happily married for close to five years.

When people ask why she hadn’t considered remarrying, even for the sake of her son, Felicity would always say, “Well, I only have but one heart, and I’ve already given it away to Oliver Queen years ago.”  She practically raised their son by herself, the way she and Oliver had talked about on those nights in their jungle hut or tent.  She kept the promises that she had made to her husband on his death bed.  No one close to her, whether friend or family, doubted her devotion to her one and only husband.  She always wore around her neck her most favorite piece of accessory underneath her blouses, shirts, and dresses – Oliver’s dog tags – as a testament to her commitment to the love of her life.

* * *

Oliver takes a step closer to the headstone on his father’s grave.  He places a Purple Heart on top, and then takes a step back.  “That’s to honor you, Dad.  Mom wants to hang it next to yours in her room.  She has always told me that you said you’ll be proud of me, whatever path in life I’d take.  Well, I hope you’re prouder that I’ve taken the path that you and Mom had taken, because I sure am mighty proud of you two.”

Felicity bites her lower lip to hold back tears and blink them away.  She’s proud of their son, and she knows that up in heaven, Oliver is, too. 

Her son keeps speaking, though.  “I didn’t fully realize what I was getting into when I signed up, until I was dodging bullets and side-stepping landmines… and seeing my friends get shot… or blown up to pieces.  Sometimes… I still get nightmares, and wake up with a cold sweat, and… and sometimes I just wish I was a little boy again so that I could curl up on my bed at night and get hugs from my mom… and my dad.”

Oliver doesn’t realize he’s already crying until his mother puts her hand on his shoulder to comfort him.  Felicity herself is already crying.

“I know Mom checks up on me at night since we arrived at the ranch.  I’m 24, but I don’t mind.  She once told me that whenever you had nightmares, she used to hold you and hug you inside the mosquito net where you slept in your tent, or hut, or whatever you guys used to call it during the war.  I think that’s very sweet of her.  One day I hope to meet someone sweet and special, too.  Someone who’ll understand why I do what I believe I have to do.  Someone who’s not afraid… like Mom.”

“You’d be really proud of her, Dad.  Mom’s come a long, long way.  She’s still with the Red Cross, but she’s one of those who call the shots now.  The boys in Nam are blessed that she’s the one in-charge of the Red Cross workers and volunteers fielded to Southeast Asia.  She really looks out for the best interests of our troops,” Oliver bragged to his father.

His father would have been proud of his mother, no doubt – not just for her notable achievements as a nurse, but also for making good on her promise the day before his father passed away.

_In January of 1946, Felicity traveled back to the Philippines with Oliver Jr. (then only eight months old) to testify to several atrocities committed by the Japanese imperial army in an American war crimes judicial proceeding, together with John Diggle who had been promoted to Lance Corporal for his acts of valor during the Japanese occupation and the liberation of the Philippine islands.  Their testimonies and the testimonies of other survivors of the Death March and of liberated POWs had collectively been solid evidence of the brutal, inhumane acts of violence done by the Japanese.  A number of high-ranking Japanese officers, including Lieut. General Masaharu Homma – the one in charge of the Japanese imperial army that had sanctioned the Death March – had been sentenced to death for their crimes._

_Felicity’s only misgiving, though, was that apparently, no one had come forward about the sexual slavery of women during the war by the Japanese.  She had issued a sworn statement that she herself had experienced harassment and attempted rape by a Tai-i of the Kempeitai when she was detained for interrogation in San Fernando, Pampanga.  However, since the perpetrator was already dead, and no one else could be held liable to the crime, and since no one else had come forward to testify of such heinous offenses by the Japanese, her complaints had to be dismissed._

_While she was in Manila, Francisco Ramon also reached out to her.  She learned that he had plans of going back to school to finish a college degree in mechanical engineering.  He said that he’d been working in a factory in Pateros and saving up money for his tuition come June.  He planned to keep working during the day and to study from late afternoon until evening.  They exchanged addresses and promised to keep in touch._

_When local Red Cross officials and friends from the American National Red Cross (ANRC) heard that she was in Manila, they invited her to participate in meetings aimed at laying the groundwork for the formal establishment of the Philippine Red Cross.  They were impressed by her insight and recommendations, and upon their appeal, convinced her to extend her stay to help out in their endeavor.  A little over a year later, in March of 1947, President Manuel Roxas signed Republic Act 95, thereby officially giving the Philippine Red Cross (PRC) its Charter.  One week later, the first chairperson of the PRC, Mrs. Aurora Quezon, widow of the late President Manuel Quezon, received a cable from Geneva informing them that the International Committee of the Red Cross has approved the recognition of the PRC._

_Before she departed for the U.S. with an almost-two-year-old Oliver Jr., something wonderfully unexpected happened.  Some PRC volunteers from Central Luzon came to the Manila headquarters for training.  One of the women who attended Felicity’s training session was none other than her friend and former co-worker, Auring.  As it turned out, Auring had listened to her that morning when they had parted ways in the Kempeitai detachment and she had told her to stay alive.  Auring was set free by the Japanese after six months of enslavement at the comfort station in Nueva Vizcaya province.  She had found her way back to her hometown in Pampanga as a vagrant, begging kind-hearted people for food, medicine, and shelter along the way.  But, she had survived.  She had healed physically, yet her emotional and psychological scars will probably take a lifetime to heal._

_When Felicity asked Auring why she was serving with the PRC again, the woman replied, “I can’t stay a victim forever, Ms. Felicity.  I cannot let my horrible past keep me from living my life.  If I do, then I will never be truly free.  I remember your example, Miss.  You were so brave in helping people, even at the risk of your own safety.  I believe, serving others in spite of what happened to me will help me move on with my life.  Thank you so much for being an inspiration to me.”_

_Felicity was humbled by her words.  Before they ended their conversation over coffee, she was emboldened to ask one thing of her friend._

_“Auring, last year I appeared in a war crimes court to testify of the brutal crimes of the Japanese.  No one but I came forward about the rapes.  About the kidnappings of girls.  About the sex stations.  Would you be brave enough to speak up and testify?” Felicity asked._

_Auring was quiet.  Felicity could sense her fear and hesitation.  Felicity understood that silence for Filipinos meant a negative response; they are often too shy to say no to someone, especially to guests and foreigners._

_“It’s okay.  I understand.  You have reason to be afraid.”_

_“Yes, and no,” Auring responded quickly.  “Yes, I am afraid.  But I am not afraid of the Japanese.  What more can they do to me?  They have shattered my soul and crushed my spirit.  It is only now that I am able to pick up the pieces somehow.  But if I speak up, and tell people about what happened to me, I will never be able to recover.  I am more afraid of what my relatives, my neighbors, my friends, and other people will think of me.  I don’t think I will be able to bear the shame, even if none of it was my fault.  No man would ever take me for his wife.”_

_Felicity said nothing more.  She could, in all honesty, but she chose to bite her tongue.  She completely understood where she was coming from.  Who was she to judge a victim of violence?  Who was she to judge a society that added more insult to injury when confronted with bitter realities of what human beings are capable of?  Nevertheless, she was also angry, angry at how women were still treated in society, and she wished with all her heart that things would change in time._

* * *

**San Diego, California (Winter, 1997)**

“I want to go home,” Felicity pleads.

“Mom, we’ve talked about this yesterday,” Oliver tells her.  “The doctors and nurses can keep an eye on you better if you stay here.”

“I want to go home.”

Oliver sighs in exasperation.  He is now a Major by rank (but he has chosen to teach at the Marine Corps training facility in Camp Pendleton), yet here he is, still taking orders from his 78-year-old mother, who still thinks she’s in charge.  Even though she retired from the ANRC more than ten years ago, she still carries with her the leadership habits she has picked up through decades of service.  It’s just that there are times when Oliver thinks it’s more than just her tendency to assert herself that comes into play in times like this; he thinks it’s her stubbornness that gets in the way. 

Since Felicity turned 70, her physical body has grown gradually weaker, but her mind hasn’t dulled; it has been as brilliant and keen as Oliver could remember.  In the last few years she has gotten somewhat sickly.  Three years ago, she started having problems with her knee.  She has battled with pneumonia three times in the last two years and, thank God, she has always pulled through.

This time, though, it is different. 

“Oliver, I’m tired.  I _need_ to go home.”  Her voice is soft but firm, in spite of the oxygen tubes in her nostrils.

Oliver turns to his wife Linda with a look on his face that implores for her to give her opinion.  He is not surprises when she nods, taking her mother-in-law’s side.  Oliver closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.  He does not want to argue anymore. 

“Okay, Mom, if that’s what you need,” he says.  “But we’re taking you to our house.  You can’t stay in your house all by yourself.  You’re very sick.”

“No,” Felicity refuses.  “I want to go _home_.”  She breathes deeply, taking in as much of the oxygen as she can.  “I want to go home.  To the ranch.  Your father’s there.”

Oliver’s impulsive response would have been, “What?  Dearden Ranch is almost a 12-hour drive!  And no commercial airline is going to allow a sick old woman to board a plane.  Mom, come on.  Be realistic!”  But he held his tongue, as his wife squeezed his upper arm to ground him.

It took him a minute to compose himself, to ponder on the significance of his mother’s request.  He knows she’s telling him more than what mere words are saying.  She doesn’t just want to leave the hospital; she wants to rest.  The desire she has just verbalized frightens him. 

Felicity is worn out and tired.  Since her youth, she has given so much of herself and her services to others, and not just to the people she loved dearly.  She served strangers, and at the extreme, even those she had enemies in the past.  She has lived a full life.  She has not only achieved success; she has found significance.  She wants to go home.

And why not?  Her legacy and influence on the men and women of the American National Red Cross is widely known here and abroad.  People have called her “the Clara Barton of the 20th century West Coast.”  She also made a significant mark in U.S. military intelligence, when the War Department contacted her about collaborating with the intelligence bureau in making improvements in encryption-decryption technology, since they had learned about her success in building and reproducing _Hackers_ during her involvement in the guerrilla movement in the Philippine islands in the War.  Her ideas and recommendations were incorporated into the designs of prototypes of encryption-decryption computers used by U.S. intelligence during the Cold War. 

_After she retired from active service with the ANRC, she undertook another significant life’s work – the writing of her autobiography, where she highlighted her experience with her husband, the legendary Green Arrow, during the Pacific War.  Her book “Purple Heart, Red Cross, and Green Arrows” was published and widely distributed in America and Europe.  It was critically acclaimed and very well received by the public, especially since many of the real-life characters and war vets in the book (like John Diggle and Rene Ramirez) were still alive at the time and had gladly (and proudly) corroborated her claims and testimonies.  Two years later, the book was made available in the Far East._

_It was no wonder that one Aurora de Guzman from Central Luzon got a hold of a copy of the book and was inspired – finally – to come out with her own life story.  After half a century of silence, Auring came forward and shared the untold story of Filipino “comfort women” like her that had been used as sex slaves by the Japanese during the occupation.  It had caused quite a stir, and soon, more old women had come forward, testifying of the same harrowing experience during the war.  The women had formed an organization clamoring for justice and compensation from the government of Japan.  They are still fighting for their cause and are currently in the process of appealing to the Japanese courts.  Felicity herself had written and sent a signed affidavit in their support, testifying to the sexual slavery and rapes committed by the Japanese during the occupation of the Philippines.  Unfortunately, hope is bleak for these women, for year after year they are dwindling in number, as one_ lola _(grandma) after another succumbs to illness or old age._

_One fine day three years ago, Felicity was treated to a wonderful surprise.  An unexpected visitor knocked on her door in San Diego.  Francisco Ramon had come to visit, telling her how he had obtained an immigrant visa through the petition of his daughter, who had already been an American citizen for the past ten years.  Kiko told her that he just had to come see her before he flew to Baltimore, Maryland to live with his daughter and her family.  He not only wanted to see her; he also wanted to personally bring her a copy of Auring’s book.  Felicity gladly received the gift.  When she opened her friend’s autobiography and flipped past the cover page, she discovered that Auring had lovingly dedicated the manuscript “to Felicity Megan Smoak Queen – the bravest of the Fearless Four, and my dearest friend.”  Felicity held the book close to her heart and gave Kiko a warm hug._

* * *

“Alright, Mom.  I’ll go talk to your doctor, make some calls, and then I’ll come back to have your discharge processed.  Linda will stay with you,” Oliver tells Felicity. 

Twenty-four hours later, Felicity is being transported by ambulance from San Diego to Dearden Ranch in Northern California, with her son Oliver holding her hand.  He would call for Linda, their two grown children, and their first grandchild to come when the need arises.  Thea Queen-Davis and her husband meet them at the ranch, having done advanced preparations to get the house ready for its resident patient, especially since it is extraordinarily cold this winter season.  A full-time private nurse has been hired by the Queen family to help take care of Felicity.

On the third night of their stay in the ranch house, Felicity’s condition takes a turn for the worse.  She has difficulty breathing all evening, and the oxygen mask isn’t keeping her comfortable anymore.  The private nurse left the room to give her and her son some privacy. 

“Mom, do you need anything else?  What can I get you?” Oliver asks her.

Felicity simply shakes her head to say no.  She motions for him to come sit by her bed, and he does.  She lifts the oxygen mask covering her face, and tells him in between shallow breaths, “I’m tired.  I really… need to rest.  All I need is you… here… Oliver.  Have Linda… bring everyone over.”

Oliver does as his mother wishes and calls Linda.  He comes back to sit beside his mother, telling her how much he loves her.  “Rest, Mom.  I’ll stay here with you,” he tells her, caressing her silver-grey hair, and then he kisses her goodnight on the forehead.  She tells him, “Thank you.  I love you, son,” before he places the oxygen mask back on her face.

Felicity closes her eyes, with a content and peaceful smile on her face.  “Oliver, Honey, I’m coming home to you,” she says without uttering a word.  Before she falls asleep, she toys with the rings on her finger.

Sitting on a chair, Oliver falls asleep sooner that she does, after a long day of taking care of his mom. 

Several hours later, the moon still lighting the ebony sky, he wakes up and realizes that his mother has already expired.  Felicity’s hand is on her chest, clutching something, and Oliver immediately notices that his mother’s rings are gone, and the “necklace” she always wears around her neck is gone, too.  He releases her grip and finds in her hand his father’s dog tags together with her rings, strung into the silver chain.

Oliver’s eyes pool with tears.  “Goodbye, Mom.  You’re finally home with Dad.”

Two days later, Felicity is laid to rest beside her husband, her hero - under the oak tree at the edge of the meadow near the stream at Dearden Ranch.

 

*** **THE END** ***

 

Historical Notes:

  
1\. I forgot to include notes about the Yamashita treasure in the previous chapter. The legend of the Yamashita treasure has been highly controversial, and based only on the testimonies and claims of individuals. The treasure itself, which includes a solid gold buddha, has not been found according to historians. Books have been written about it, the most famous ones were by Sterling and Peggy Seagraves. The accounts of individuals who claim to have hunted for it and seen it, however, are quite interesting and sometimes even compelling. One such person was a Filipino treasure hunter named Rogelio Roxas who claimed that he had found the treasure and had been able to sell some of it, but that then Philippine president Ferdinand Marcos had had him been arrested and beaten, and had seized the rest of the treasure from him. He also claimed to have been imprisoned for over a year because of his vocal campaign to reclaim the golden buddha. He later filed a lawsuit against Marcos in the state of Hawaii where the former president had been exiled due to the People Power Revolution in 1986 that ousted him from the presidency. What's personally interesting about this is that my mother once told me that people in her hometown in the province of Pangasinan used to tell folk tales (more like rumors) that some of the Yamashita treasure had been buried underneath our great-grandfather's ancestral house there. Nothing has been found, though, so to my mother's side of the family, the stories remain as stories. It would have been great if it were true, right? :-)

2\. The Santo Tomas Hospital is located in the University of Santo Tomas, which, if I'm not mistaken is the oldest university in the Philippines and in Asia, established by the Dominican missionaries in 1611. In real life, the campus and hospital were destroyed in February 1945 during the liberation of Manila from the Japanese. The destroyed parts of the campus and the hospital had long been rebuilt since, and the UST Hospital and College of Medicine are among the leading institutions of healthcare and medical training in the country. That is where my mother studied to be a doctor in the 1960s, so it holds a special place in my heart.

3\. Josephine Nesbit and Maude Davison were the two women that became the "leaders" of the American army nurses that were interned as prisoners by the Japanese during the occupation. These heroic army nurses that served under dire situations later became known as the "Angels of Bataan."

4\. The Purple Heart is a military medal or decoration awarded in the name of the President of the United States to military personnel that have been wounded or killed, either in any action against an enemy of the United States, or as a result of an act of any such enemy. It was first awarded in 1932. It design includes the face of George Washington. During the early period of WWII, it was also awarded for meritorious service, but an Executive Order discontinued this practice at about 1943. At one point, even civilians could receive the award, but, if I am not mistaken, this is not the case anymore. During WWII, nearly 500,000 Purple Hearts were manufactured due to the expected heavy casualties in the planned invasion of Japan by the Allied forces.

5\. During the Vietnam War, they did send injured U.S. soldiers to hospitals in Southeast Asia, including the Philippines, to get more medical attention and to recover there before they are sent back to the States.

6\. After the Philippines was liberated in 1945, it took a long time for the Americans to wrap up their business in here. Among the things they had to get done was to try Japanese officials for war crimes and atrocities committed during the war. Many were found guilty, sentenced to death, and executed. These included Gen. Masaharu Homma (for the Death March and other crimes) and Gen. Yamashita (the "Tiger of Malaya").

7\. The Philippine Red Cross did receive its Charter in 1947. It first chairperson was the former first lady Aurora Aragon Quezon, wife of Commonwealth period Pres. Manuel Quezon. She is the historical figure that inspired the character of Auring in this story.

8\. Another real-life character that became the inspiration for Auring is Lola (Grandma) Rosa Henson, who first came out with her story in 1992 at age 65. She went public with her story of how the Japanese had kidnapped her and made her a "comfort woman" during her teenage years, and then wrote a book titled "Comfort Woman: A Slave of Destiny." Prior to this, only her mother and her dead husband knew of her secret. After this 50 more women came forward with the same horrific experience. They organized into a the Lila Filipina, Inc. Together victims from Korea and China, the Filipino women filed a class action lawsuit against the Japanese government in December 1993, demanding justice in the form of a formal and unequivocal apology, the inclusion of all the war-time atrocities (such as sexual slavery) into Japan’s school history books, and monetary compensation for the violence committed against the women. The Japanese government said that they did not have any legal responsibility and refused to pay the victims. Later on, because of the growing pressure of continued protests and appeals by the survivors and their supporters, Japan set up the Asian Women's Fund (AWF) in 1994 to collect money from private Japanese citizens to give to the victims as “atonement payments,” but the fund was dissolved in 2007. As of 2016, out of the 174 identified Filipino comfort women by Lila Pilipina, only 70 of them are still living, and only about 4 to 6 of them are still actively communicating with the organization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and following this story! I truly appreciate it, especially those who would leave comments and reviews from time to time. Shout-outs to mellovesall, sunshine0977, fanoffic, Olicityfn, and hellostarlight20! Thank you for commenting each time. I loved hearing from you!
> 
> I just hope you do not hate me for the major character death in the first part of the story. Although this is an Olicity AU romance fic, it is also a historical war fic, so it goes without saying that one or more important characters will die. No matter how much I contemplated on it and tried to avoid it, the plot really led me to end Oliver's life as one of the heroes in this story earlier. Felicity's character that she outlive her husband and continue his legacy as a wife, mother, and as a heroine in her own way. So, I find that I cannot apologize if the character death(s) upset you, especially since the archive warning has always been there since chapter 1 was posted.
> 
> This fic is close to my heart, as some of you have recognized, and I am very happy that I was able to finish it, despite the effort needed to write a historical fic. This was my first, and it was a really grueling but fulfilling experience. I hope that it has not only entertained and touched your heart, but that is also inspired you to be a hero in your special way, to make sure that the violence and hideous atrocities of war will not happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes:  
> The Fall of Bataan on April 9, 1942 is commemorated in my country every year as an official public holiday called "Araw ng Kagitingan" (Day of Valor or Bravery). The day after that infamous day when American and Filipino troops surrendered to the Japanese imperialist army marked the beginning of the Bataan Death March which lasted until April 17th. 75,000 American and Filipino prisoners of war marched 65 miles under the heat of summer from Bataan to Pampanga provinces to be transferred by rail to the prison camps. Thousands perished because of starvation, sickness, injuries, beatings, torture, and murder/execution before, during, and after the march. It wasn't until January 1944 that the U.S. government made the story of the Death March public in America, which had incited outrage. When American forces returned as promised by Gen. Douglas MacArthur and liberated the Philippines with the aid of the Filipino armed forces and guerilla movement, the Allied forces arrested Gen. Masaharu Homma in 1945 and indicted him for war crimes, including the atrocities of the Death March, for which he was found guilty and was sentenced to death by firing squad in 1946.
> 
> Years ago, I found out from my mother and grandmother about how my late grandfather, a WWII veteran, had gone through the Death March and survived the war. When he was alive and I was still little, he didn't speak of the war at all, only saying that he wished that none of us would have to ever experience war times in our lifetimes. After the war he rose the ranks and became a Brigadier General of the Philippine Armed Forces, and later on in his life, even pursued a career in Law and taught in the university. Unfortunately, he died of cancer in the 1980s, and I never got to talk to him about the war when it became our topic in History in high school later on. This work is also dedicated to honor his memory. 
> 
> The stories and experiences that I shall use to write this fic are, therefore, based on research and readings of historical accounts and true stories of the Battle of Bataan, the Battle of Corregidor, the Bataan Death March, the Japanese occupation, and the liberation of the Philippines - not actual stories from people I know personally. If some of you will find errors in the historical details I incorporate into the plot, I apologize in advance. I am an amateur to this sort of thing. If you want to know more about the American troops that surrendered to the Japanese and became POWs in the Philippines during the occupation, you may want to watch the movie The Great Raid (2005).
> 
> I hope you will find this story not only entertaining but also thought-provoking and inspiring. I will not promise a regular updating schedule, because I might not be able to fulfill it. And as any fic writer will appreciate, it would be nice to receive reviews from you from time to time. Do let me know what you think. Thank you for clicking on this story, and I hope you will follow it as it progresses. Blessings to you!


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